My official BST Fan Fic
by Bonnie S
Summary: What if it was Darby who walked up on Nona and Virgil? Plz R&R! UPDATE - CH. 8 UPLOADED!
1. I See the Dead Rise, Lose my Mind

Okay, for those who found problems, were confused, had complaints in certain areas, or just wanted scenes added in – my BST fan fic has been reorganized. Every chapter has been touched up or changed in one way or another, so it might be an idea to go over them all. I have erased all reviews, so hopefully everyone can leave me some messages. If that does not work, please feel free to email me.

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING:** The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **EXTREMELY HIGH** levels of **BST** – which has been proven to cause **severe addiction** in **low doses**. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

**DISCLAIMER:** Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the US they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All BST characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^

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BST Chapter 13

**In Which I See the Dead Rise, and Lose my Mind**

By Bonnie S.

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**_Nona_** –

A twig snapped, stopping me. Someone was approaching. I turned to Virgil. "You didn't forget to clean your room again, did you?" He shook his head and another twig snapped, nearer. And who should appear from behind a tree but the object of my worse nightmares and the author of one of the reasons for my heartbreak, Darby Edwards!

"Oh God, no. Virgil, run! Get help!" I yelled as I shoved the little boy I adored out of the way. Virgil got far out of harms reach and seemed to be gone in no time, but I wasn't that lucky. Darby grabbed hold of me, and put a knife hard to my throat.

"Now, you are going to be some pleasant company for me while we walk back to my estate. After all, you screaming my make my tense muscles twitch and put a new permanent smile on you." He snapped as he pressed the blade harder against my neck for added emphasis. 

What Darby didn't see, but I saw clearly, was a little detective hidden behind some near by bushes. Virgil looked at me with teary eyes and nodded much like his insensitive uncle before rushing away quietly. He must have known that I was in deep trouble when I hadn't followed him and came back to find me. I could tell that he had heard where I was being dragged off to. So, that meant I had to hold off as long as I could to let him get to the manor for help. I refocused on Darby once I saw my little hero run off for help. "In your company, that would be the only way to make me smile, Edwards." 

"Oh, you were enjoying being with me not too long ago. It was during that cab ride last Christmas that gave me the idea of how to get back at Sherlock. Yes, what better way to outclass him than to make him look like the bumbling, spurious detective that he is?" He chuckled as he brushed his fingers down my side a moment. I thought that I felt disgusted at his kissing my hand at Christmas, that was nothing compared to this. 

That jeer and touch made me angrier than Sir Siger ever had. "Holmes knew that you were trouble from the start. As for that interview, I was luring you in by acting the part of an air-headed woman that most men of this country expect me to be! And that cab ride last Christmas was the worst one of my life. I scrubbed off that kiss you placed on my hand onto my skirt the second the cab rolled on. I suspected you as well from the start, and helped every step I could to bring you down." 

"And now I shall reward you for all of that, Miss Brown, in ways that pale in comparison to what I did to Sylvia Pittston. And then I will send your body back to Sherlock a piece at a time. That should crush the no-good, pompous, egotistical epitome of what all men in North Riding should aspire to." Edwards growled in my ear. 

Did I hear this right? Darby Edwards was jealous of my Sherlock? And did he just call Holmes an epitome? Boy, was Darby in need of a serious reality check! If he had only seen the Sherlock Holmes I left in London, he wouldn't be so resentful. Still I had to buy Virgil time to get help and for the rescue party to arrive, so I bit back the sardonic remark I so wanted to retort at this pathetic piece of trash. The last thing I wanted to do was return to Sherlock in pieces – literally. 

Most of the way I was silent, noting every marker I saw to give me an idea of how to escape if I was able to get myself out of this. Darby however kept on rattling about how much better than Holmes he was, and how he'd show me such in due time. Adding on the unwanted touch earlier, I didn't like the sound of that and wasn't ready to find out what this guy had planned for me. I started trying to slow down our pace, in the hopes that the rescue party I hoped Virgil had already called together was on their way. Stumbling over a rock and root here, struggling there, all the while being careful of the blade that was still pressed against my neck. Darby kept swearing about my being the damn clumsy woman he should have expected me to be.

Unfortunately, my stalling didn't work nearly well enough. We ended up at his manor about twenty minutes later, just as the sun set. To say that his father was irate would be the biggest understatement the world has ever and will ever know. Sir Roger Edwards was seething with rage at the sight of me in Darby's arms.

I had only caught a glance of the man leaving the last time Sherlock and I had visited, but now I saw him in full view and fought between laughing and spitting at the sleaze. Sir Roger was only slightly taller but significantly thinner than Sherlock, obviously with poverty comes fewer and smaller meals. His blue eyes echoed the steel I had seen in his son's that fateful day we both reached for the same cab door. And they showed all of his emotions (including the fact that he and his son shared the same sick mind when it came to me). His blond hair was still golden but woefully thinning, despite his attempt to comb it in a fashion to hide his still showing scalp. If it weren't for that, and the few wrinkles on his clean-shaven face, he could have passed himself off as a much younger man. I couldn't help but think that he should ask Sherlock for tips on stage make-up. The bags next to the door told me what he had planned – escape. Oh well, no time for those lessons I guess. "What do you think you're doing with her? We should get out of here now, before the police come looking for you." 

Darby glared hotly at the older man. "We will not leave until I have my revenge!"

Sir Roger, on the other hand, seemed to be smarter than his son. "Unlike you, I am not going to stay here and find myself hanging from the gallows! You are on your own, boy!"

And with that he was gone. I had no time to contemplate it though, because Darby vehemently jerked me into his library in his anger. "I'll show him. I'll have more fun than him and not get caught. Then we'll just see who is the boy of this family!"

What did he mean by that? Before I could hazard a guess, I tripped through the doorway in a true accident. What a time to have that happen! Darby angrily slammed me hard against the wall. That sent me to the ground winded, and several books rained down on my head to rattle me some more.  I was so startled and confused for a moment that I didn't take my chance to escape! Before I could figure out what way was up, Darby grabbed my shoulders and flung me into a small room before slamming the door shut. I hadn't noticed a doorway near me, so I guessed that like the hidden passage at Oakstaff Manor, there was a hidden door in this library. And that meant there was little hope of anyone finding me, so I would have to find my own escape.

Stiffly, I got to my feet and began to let my eyes adjust to the limited light in the room. Really, I couldn't call it a room because it was more like a prison cell in a cold, damp dungeon. There was a small barred window at the bottom of the far wall that even if I could get rid of the bars was too small for me to get through – it only came up to my mid-calf and was a little more than that wide in the shape of an arch. A small amount of light came in from a cave far below (giving me one more reason for that to not be my means of escape), along with a cold, damp, and awful breeze from what I supposed was stagnate water below.

Fighting the urge to gag, I felt around the walls for any handholds or ladders or other openings, but there was nothing but slimy wall. Near the end of my examination of the room I tripped over something that groaned hard. God, I recognize that voice, but it just couldn't be! No, I saw his body myself! "Is that you, Sir Siger?"

"You!" His normally rough smoker's voice was harsher with obvious pain and exhaustion.

"Oh God, we thought that you were dead!" I gasped out, not sure how to handle this situation. Now I wished that I had Sherlock there, if only to certify me crazy or that this man was truly his father. "How did you get here?"

Sir Siger chuckled, one that was eerily similar to Sherlock's. Or was it that I wanted it to be? Shacking that thought from my head I scooted closer to try and check him for injuries, but there wasn't enough light to really see his face, much less check for injuries that I was certain he had with as stiff as he was holding his body. "I have been wishing that I was. And as to how I came here it is none of YOUR concern. What are YOU doing here in any case woman? Got lost on your way to London?"

My first thought to that was this man had to be the real Sir Siger. Only he could be so annoying and cruel in a situation like this. Well, at least I know that Sherlock did get some of his father's traits – thought they were traits I'd rather his brute of a father had kept to himself. "I was kidnapped, you irritating jerk! God, you're as bad as Sherlock! No, in fact I think that you are worse than him!"

"Actually, it is that he is as bad as me; after all, he is my son." The old man raucously chuckled at my shocked gasp. If I weren't already on the ground, I would have collapsed in shock. 

I seriously began to wonder if this really was Sir Siger Holmes as I leaned back against the nearby slimy, wet wall. After all, the Siger I knew refused to acknowledge my Sherlock, outside of putting him down that is. But here he was saying without argument that the man was his son! I couldn't help but think that if it had only taken a major beating to get it in the man's head, I would have been the first in line to give it.  At least Sherlock and I wouldn't have … I again shook my head to clear away that memory. This was not the time or place to start thinking about that again. Still I couldn't let the comment slide. "So, **now** you admit that he's your son?" 

"How did you know?" 

"It doesn't matter. Damn you, if you only knew what you have put that wonderful man through! Even when he thought you were dead, you haunted him! He wouldn't accept mine or Watson's help on the next case; he got as if …" I couldn't understand why Sherlock had been so gruff and cross with us. I had brushed it off as his grief, but now it felt different. There was something more to it. 

Sir Siger's chuckling brought me out of my memories of the past few weeks. "So, because of what I said about him being a fraud, he refuses the help of those he is supposed to care so much about. Damn boy is too busy thinking with his pride and not his head. But I suppose that he got that from me. Don't be too angry with him, woman, he has gone through too much in these past weeks and needs to work it through."

This stunned me. Sir Siger Holmes was actually speaking kindly and respectfully towards me and about Sherlock? Maybe this wasn't him. Or maybe it was his near death experience. "He and I can talk later about our problems. Why are you being so nice to me, and why are you only now acknowledging Sherlock for what he is?"

For a long while he was quiet. A foul draft wrapped around and chilled me to the core. For a moment I thought he had either died or passed out from his obvious pain, and that I was alone in a hidden room with a corpse. But finally he sighed, he had only been thinking. "It is a long story, young woman."

I wanted the truth out of this old man, and that line was not going to stop me from getting it. "Looks like we have plenty of time, Sir Siger."

He snorted at that (I swear he did!). "Seeing as you are as good as family as it is, I will tell you. It all began just after my sweet Violet died."

***

**_Sixteen Years Earlier …_**

_The normally gregarious Siger Holmes withdrew from all, including all three of his dearly loved sons, for the ache that the death of his beloved wife had left him heartbroken. If he had only gone with them, she would still be alive. That meeting hadn't been all that important, and Sherlock rarely saw any children his own age. Violet had always spoilt the poor boy a little, but then Siger couldn't fault her – he knew that his youngest son was destined for great things. And little Sherlock … oh how it hurt to look at the boy now. Siger didn't blame the child for Violet's death; it was just that the boy was his dead mother made over. At least in some way Violet still remained alive through their son. That was a thought that made the old man smile, if only for a moment now and then. Yet, it was too soon for him to look upon the young boy for any given length of time without suffering agony. So, Siger would lock himself away for days with pictures of his beloved wife, her mementos, and his memories._

_It was during this time of grief that a neighbor came to visit Siger and change the household, as well as that boy's life forever. The neighbor was Sir Roger Edwards. "Siger, please accept my condolences. Violet was such a beautiful and vivacious woman. It was far too soon for her to go."_

_"Thank you Sir Roger. Normally I would like a visit from you, but now I am not in the mood for company." Siger just wanted to remember those sweet times he had alone with his beloved Violet. At least right at that moment he did. Sir Roger's words however changed that within the span of a heartbeat or so._

_"Can I ask a favor? I'd like it if my sons could play together for a little while. After all they are going to need time to grown accustomed to one another before William comes to live with me on a full time basis. Also would it be too much to have him over for the weekend?"_

_Siger's eye grew cold and hard. "Where do you get the nerve to say such things about my youngest son?"_

_Roger's eyes too grew cold and sharp. "Didn't Violet ever … no, of course she wouldn't. Not with as frightened as you always made her. She and have been lovers for years now. In fact William was created our first night together. Violet told me that if anything happened to her that I was to take custody of our only son."_

_"William is mine and Violet's son, and you are a licentious liar!" Siger shouted at the top of his lungs._

_Roger continued his assault. "If that is so, then how do I know that sweet Violet had a birthmark if light brown freckles gathered together in a oblong stroke on the lower edge of her left breast where it connected to her still firm body down about two inches on her abdomen?"_

_That left Siger's already broken heart shattered into dust. None could have known of his wife's birthmark. She disliked it so that she never wore gowns cut so low that she was in danger of revealing it to any but her husband. He had been so certain that the two of them had created William before he left for a business trip to Town – both would grin at how he had left a part of himself with her during that separation. But perhaps now it had been that she grinned at how well she had hidden her unfaithfulness from him and given her bastard son her lawful husband's name instead of her lover's. The boy did look so much like her, and nothing like him at all. Siger looked over at Sir Roger and growled threateningly. "Get out of my house and never return to darken my door again! Her William stays here!"_

**

**_Back in the Present …_**

"After that I destroyed or sold all of my wife's things and I never looked at Sherlock the same. I called him a bastard to his face, never accepted anything he did as good enough, and even went so far as to make him defy me so that I could honorably be rid of him. I didn't care what he became in life. And now it is too late to undo all that I have done to him." Siger finished his sad tale with a sigh.

So, that was what happened to break up this family? I now hated Sir Roger even more than before. He had wrecked this man, hurt my only love, and now thought that he could get away? Not as long as Nona Brown lived. I knew what I had to do. Tell this all to Sherlock and remember all that I could to help him find this monster and bring him to justice! But that was for after I got Sir Siger and myself out of this trap. "You can't help the past because it is over with. All we can do now is fight to get back to Sherlock and hopefully mend this family after far too long." 

I was livid with anger at that moment, but there was nothing I could imagine to try. Seeing I needed focus Sir Siger spoke up. "You are very much like my sweet Violet. Stubborn, determined, and you fight for those you love with all of your heart. She would have approved of you, despite all of your distinctive attitudes and tastes."

As he hoarsely chuckled with tears running down his face, I was stunned. He was very different and I think that something had to have happened for him to have done so. I wanted to understand what I was now up against when it came to the father of the man I loved so much. "What happened to you, Sir Siger? How is it that we found your body from a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head, and you are here with me in the flesh?"

"As to how I got here. Darby Edwards and some accomplice broke in to grab me. I shot the collaborator in the face – disfiguring him badly – but Darby knocked me unconscious before I could react." For a moment Sir Siger broke down into coughs again. But he waved me back when I moved to help him. "I have to say this. Darby brought me here. Roger threw in my face that no one knew I was still alive, so there would be none coming for me. He told me of how he walked in on my wife bathing one day … that was how he had seen her birthmark. That I had done just as he had planned. The only thing he had wished I had done was denounced my wife openly and disown Sherlock. But, I loved my wife too much to ever harm her name … even after death. And Sherlock was her favorite son, so it would hurt her to disown him. I merely tolerated him until I could rid myself of him. Roger told me that he would have killed Sherlock if I had turn custody of him over, and then he would have told me the truth the day he was buried in the Edward's cemetery as a bastard so that I could do nothing to regain the boy. After that he and his son beat me and threw me in this place."

This tore my heart. That one man would be so cruel to a child. I had been in the nineteenth century far too long. I forgot about all the news stories I watched and shook my head at. This I think would have been one of those 'fact is stranger than fiction' stories. "I, for one, am thankful that you loved Mrs. Holmes so much."

"She would have wanted you to call her by her given name child. She would have been pushing Sherlock into proposing to you by now if she were alive. Violet would have agreed with me that you are perfect for our son. Don't give up on him child." He took my left hand and brushed a kiss on it. I hoped that he could hold on until I could get him to a doctor.

In my mind I could see Violet urging Sherlock to take time alone with me to ask me that sweet question. It was impossible to hold back the smile that image brought to my face. Yes, even with our fight, I still loved William Sherlock Scott Holmes. "I can only hope he misses me, Sir Siger. I've been gone a week already. And even if he is here in North Riding, will Virgil get him to come after me in time?"

"This old house might be falling apart child, but it will hold up until the boy comes for you. And I want you to call me by my given name for now at the least. It will be up to my stubborn son to give you the right to call me father." He sighed hard again.

Had he just gave me the okay to marry his son? This had been the worse near month in my entire life, but in a few words the man who once annoyed me to all ends made it all better somewhat. "Or dad."

At that he chuckled hard. I obviously had a sister-in-law and a father-in-law. Now if only Sherlock would ask me to marry him! But I knew he wouldn't … he hated me.

**

**_Sherlock_** - 

Virgil raced so hard and fast that I doubt he saw me until after he ran into me at full speed. Holding him back so I could see his eyes, I knew that something was wrong. Given that Sherrinford had informed me of Nona taking him down to the tree line to teach him to play the violin, it wasn't hard to deduce that something was wrong with Nona. After a beat, the boy saw whom it was that held his shoulders. "Uncle Sherlock, come on! Hurry, Miss Nona's in trouble!" 

As he started to wrench hard on my arm back in the direction that he had just appeared from, I felt my heart stop. Nona. He said she was in trouble! "Tell me what has happened Virgil, every detail." 

"Miss Nona was teaching me to play violin down by the woods. We were taking a rest when we heard someone coming. About a minute later he came and grabbed her! She pushed me to get away and I thought she was behind me. I turned around and she wasn't there. So I went back and saw him holding a knife at her throat! He's going to hurt her! Hurry!" Again the boy began to furiously pull me. Not enough information. I needed more data. 

"Who has Nona, Virgil?" I stopped the boy's pulls and made him face me. However, his answer was not one I had expected or was prepared for. 

"Uncle Darby!"

This made my blood run cold. What did that scoundrel want with Nona? It was a question I didn't want the answer to. It was my fault that Nona had returned here, placing herself at risk for just this sort of event. I shook it off and forced myself to keep the situation in check. I wouldn't be able to save her if I lost all reins on my feelings. Still … "Do you know where he has taken her?" 

"Yes, his manor. I heard him clear, Uncle Sherlock. Hurry!" 

Virgil obviously cared for Nona nearly as much as I. "Virgil, go in and explain the situation to your mother and help her get things ready in case of the worst. Watson, Mycroft, Sherrinford, time we settled things with Darby Edwards once and for all."

I didn't even look to see if my directions were being followed. Virgil wanted to be like me, it seemed, so I knew that he would do as I say to the letter. My brothers and Watson had supported me without fail in the past, and there was no sign of that fact ever changing. In fact I could feel them right behind me as we charged towards the cart to ride to Darby's ill-gotten estate. All I could do was hope that Nona could hold the situation out long enough for us to arrive, and that one day she would forgive me for putting her through all of this.

It took so long to race the horse towards what had been the Richardson Estate. All the while I thought out every possible punishment I could give Edwards for simply putting my dearest Nona through all of this. Most were illegal, while others would have not have been as satisfactory. Then her face came to my mind hard, and I could nearly see the tears in her eyes that Watson had described Nona wearing the morning she left. I still could not remember what it was I had said to her that drove her off, but I was willing to do anything to get her to return with me to Baker Street. Now that this vivacious and spirited woman had engrained herself so deeply into my life, I knew that I couldn't function half as well without her with me. It would be as if I had lost Watson or Mrs. Hudson, I could muddle through but my life wouldn't have been the same due to the empty space created by my lost. That past week told me that clearly. 

I spent all of my time, favors, and resources searching for her – and I would have done it all again to bring Nona back and refill that hole in my life. I might not show or say such to her, but neither did I to Watson or Mrs. Hudson. Why did this woman have to be so difficult to understand? How could this woman love me? She knew the truth about my darkest secret, one that Watson didn't know. And still she loved me? I had no true name to give her … when did I begin to think of such things? And why did she matter to me so?

Then the truth came to me. Suppose that the way to return to her own time came; could I really bind her to me by vow and hold her here with a clear conscience? She had told me herself that she missed her family, and here all she had was my family, our friends, and myself. And did she not have a part in life to play out? Holding her here could jeopardize something that is to happen in the future.

And Watson had claimed to love her as well. He was more stable, had a career that didn't have its dry spells of no cases, and he had a name – Watson was not a bastard as I was. Why had she not fallen for him instead? And why did I have to fall in love with her just as deeply as my friend? 

**

**_Nona_** – 

'Please hurry, Sherlock,' I thought to myself. I wasn't sure why I thought of him coming to my rescue, but right then it was almost as if I could feel his arms wrapping around me. I knew that it was a trick of my mind, but I could have sworn that I smelled his scent – shag tobacco, sandalwood soap, and him. For the first time in a week, I felt nearly whole. Honestly, I felt safe, loved, and missed all at the same time. I wondered if Watson had shown Sherlock my telegram? Would he have even cared, or had his hate-filled words had only been the alcohol talking? I so hoped with all of my heart that he was on his way. Honestly I never thought that I would ever miss that egotistical, wonderful man this badly … but I did. 

His groaning quickly arrested my attentions solely on Sir Siger as he twisted where he could look at me. His next words about made me faint. "I was right before you know. He wants to marry you." 

"No, he doesn't. If he could, he would have thrown me out at the start like he first planned." I don't know why, but I explained it all to Sir Siger, who simply lay there and listened. How I was from the future, how I found myself in the nineteenth century, what happened that literally knocked me into Watson. I did skip Holmes and my first meeting, but I did explain how I used that library book to bargain my way into living at 221B. And then I explained about how we all thought he had killed himself, the note, how it affected Holmes. Finally, I told him about Holmes' and my fight, my leaving Baker Street, and how Darby Edwards kidnapped me. 

For a few minutes, he said nothing. I guessed that the start of my story didn't seem to make much sense. In fact, I worried that I shouldn't have told him at all. When we got out of this place, was he going to reserve me a bed at Bedlam? Finally, he wheezed a bit, telling me that he was getting worse. "Quite a story, young lady, but it does explain your behavior. As for my foolish son, I'm sure that he is using all of his so-called skills to track you. However, I believe that it will be too late for me by the time he arrives." Then he broke down into brutal coughing and wheezing. I had to get us out of there and fast. 

"We'll just find a way out until he does. You hold on, dad. If it weren't for your son, I would be a different person before I was hiccupped into this century, and I would probably be dead by now. He is the world's greatest detective, because he knows how to take the facts and set them straight, as well as knowing when he himself can't get the facts, but another might." I got up and pressed my back against the door. I prayed that I was right about what I suspected. 

Sir Siger was right, the rest of the manor was in disrepair; maybe this part of the house was as well. There was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, I slammed all of my weight against the door – nothing. Again I shoved against it … was that a slight shift I felt? Who cared, it gave me hope. Again I heaved against the door, but the shift this time became more of a jarring. Suddenly the door opened and Edwards caught me in one arm. The good news was that he couldn't close it back – I had knocked it off of its hinges. The bad news was I had royally pissed off an already volatile Darby. I still had no plan of how to go about knocking him out and getting Sir Siger to safety. 

"Got that much energy in you, Miss Brown? Maybe I can wear you down nicely." He chuckled in my ear before shoving me face first into the solid bookcase. He wasn't thinking of doing what I thought he was! No way was I letting this jerk do that! As hard as I could I connected my elbow with his mouth, or tried to only make contact with the side of his head. That made the situation worse. I could only think 'Where are you, Sherlock, when I need you?' But I knew he was probably still at Baker Street killing himself. 

Darby swung me around. I felt a couple of sharp pains in the back of my head. Then all was dark. 

**

**_Sherlock_** –

We moved around to the back of the house to hopefully get into the library through a secret passage I remembered from my youth. So far we hadn't been discovered, but I wasn't taking any chances with my Nona's life. It was hard to open, but with all four of us heaving at it the secret door quickly relented to our demands for entrance. Quietly we made our way through the short tunnel to the door that led into the library. We made it to the wall and removed enough books to see that across the room the center of the wall was jerking out hard. I remembered that had been a cell for prisoners once long before. It had to be Nona. I felt a swell of pride towards her that moment; she hadn't given up. Before she could get the door open or we could get to her, Darby slammed the hidden door open and wedged it to where he couldn't close it back. 

I couldn't hear what he was saying, but when he so rudely smashed Nona into the bookcase facing away from him I knew what the aberrant fool had planned for her, and would never allow him to do that to Nona. She too seemed to know what was happening, because she caught the side of his head with her elbow, hard, before he could begin disrobing her. Right then we opened our door and entered the room, ready to grab Darby before he could escape. I was too slow to react. I saw him grab the heavy book, and the rest seemed to slow down. He slammed Nona on the back of her head with the top of the volume, she spun as she fell and that same area of her head struck the nearby table. Finally she and the table collapsed to the ground and she did not move. 

I saw red and do not remember what happened the next few minutes clearly. Darby Edwards had hurt my dear Nona! 

**

**_Watson_** – 

I had never before or since seen my friend Sherlock Holmes' face grow so dark with hate. Though I shared his anger at the appalling treatment of the woman I knew by then without question we both dearly loved, Holmes had also suffered the loss of his father all too recently because of this Darby Edwards … which only added to his detestation. 

Holmes ripped across the room with speed that I never dared guess him capable of and began to beat Darby Edwards with all the rage and anguish that was in his soul. I rushed to Nona's side and soon found that she was only unconscious. I was grateful, for if she had died I knew Edwards would be dead and Holmes would be sent to the scaffolds for the crime … of that I was certain. I had no wish to lose two of my friends in such violent ways so quickly.

Sherrinford and Mycroft both had to pull Holmes off of the equally unconscious, but more seriously wounded, Darby Edwards. "Holmes." I called out to calm him and remind him of Nona. 

That did the trick. He wrenched free of his brothers and dropped to his knees near her head – worry covering his face. His voice was tight as he spoke, telling me this was hard on him. "Is she. . . ?" 

"She alive, but unconscious. I won't know how much damage was done until she wakes up." I didn't have the heart to tell my friend that there was a chance that our love would never awaken. Tenderly, he pulled her limp body into his arms, focusing solely on the beautiful angel in his arms. It almost looked as if Nona calmed in his embrace and settled deeper into his arms as she slept. I knew then that she truly loved Holmes even with his flaws, and I was not going to come in between them.

The stunned cry and fainting of Mycroft Holmes grabbed all of our attentions, however. Sherrinford too gasped in shock when he looked into the room Nona had been locked in. "Father!" 

With a nod from Holmes I rushed into the room to find a badly beaten Sir Siger Holmes, wheezing and groaning in pain. After checking him briefly, I could see that I needed to get him back to Oakstaff to treat him fully. Looking up at the eldest Holmes brother, I could see that this was a great shock. "We have to get him back so I can work with him." 

"Work on the girl. I'm fine." The old man croaked out. The man was as stubborn as his youngest son, if not even more so. 

"Sir Siger, I checked Nona and she is only unconscious for now. I can't do anything more for her until she wakes." I snapped. 

Sherrinford wasn't going to have anything to do with his father's wishes at that moment. "Father, we are taking you home this instant. Dr. Watson, see if you can get Mycroft to wake up. I'll carry my father." 

I nodded and in a few moments had the larger brother awake. "Is he. . .?" 

"Yes, though we need to get him home as soon as possible." I reported. 

**

**_Sherlock_** – 

I was in shock as I hoisted Nona into my arms. My father was still alive. If she and I hadn't fought, if she hadn't returned to Oakstaff, if Edwards hadn't taken her – I didn't want to explore the possibilities. Yet I went from shock to astonishment when my father came into the room, carried by Sherrinford. "Sherlock." 

"Yes, Father?" I was terrified. What did he want to cut me down with now? 

The look in his brown eyes was as hard and sharp as ever. "You do right by this girl. She reminds me much of your mother at that age. That makes her a good match for you … my son." 

Without holding Nona in my arms, I would have fainted from those two words for certain. Had he really called me his son? Oh Nona, how did you do it? I couldn't confirm his words because he had passed out from the pain. 

Nona, on the other hand, slowly came to as we made it out to the cart. As happy as my father's words had made me, her words made me that miserable. "Who are you?"

**

**_Nona_** – 

I woke up in the arms of some man with no idea of who he or I were. 

Yet, the situation didn't upset me. If anything I felt safe, and that the circumstances we were in at that moment was somehow familiar. I remember that before I opened my eyes, his scent filled my nostrils and made me feel calm and safe. In one word I felt like I was at home in his arms. So I didn't struggle against him, but snuggled into his hold more securely. He looked like my not remembering him hurt, but my nestling into his arms somewhat helped.

We got in this cart with the others, including one who slightly annoyed me and one who frightened me. Both were unconscious, but the frightening one still bothered me. The man who had carried me out of the house swore to protect me, so that made things a little easier. So did his wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to him. It took my mind off of my memory loss. 

He told me that I lived with him and one of the gentlemen in someplace called London. He and I had a fight and I came to his family's home to get away for a time so he could cool down. The reason I was afraid of the man across from us was that he had kidnapped me and then hit me, which caused my memory loss. My hero told me that his name was Sherlock Holmes and that he was a consulting detective. Our roommate was a doctor by the name of John H. Watson. I was named Nona Ermingarde Brown; that middle name just made me cringe to the chuckle of the men surrounding me. The other three men were my hero's relatives. The man with the beard and moustache was his eldest brother, Sherrinford. The largest of his elder brothers was Mycroft. And the elderly gentleman who seemed banged up and was unconscious (though still mildly annoyed me) was his father Sir Siger. My attacker was named Darby Edwards. At that name, I harshly rubbed my hand against my dress without knowing why. Was it a memory surfacing? None of the conscious men around me could explain it.

We (Holmes, Watson, and I) left the next day, but promised to return the following month to visit. All hoped that more familiar surroundings would help to jog more memories, but the little boy (Sherlock's nephew named Virgil) was unhappy that Sherlock and I were leaving. Sherlock promising to come with me if there was no case he was working on made the boy somewhat happy. On the train ride towards London we were all silent mostly. I was happy that Sherlock held my hand through nearly the entire trip. He explained at one point, when we were alone for a few minutes, that he had been drunk when we fought so he couldn't remember what he had said that drove me away, but he was glad that I had agreed to return home with him and Watson. At least that was how I interpreted it.

"Nona, I realize that it is disconcerting returning to Baker Street with Watson and I, when we are practically strangers."

I smiled and squeezed the hand that held mine. "It maybe for me as if we all have just met, but returning with the two of you is not distressing in the least. I feel safe with the two of you and it feels almost natural to be going back with you and Watson."

I could see that my words had stunned him, but Sherlock brushed it off and returned to the face I knew was a mask he nearly always wore in public – but how did I know that. "Still, when either of us remembers what our disagreement was about, preferably both, we will discuss it and seek an amity to the situation."

I wanted to huff for some reason at that. "Feels more like we had an all out brawl minus the fist fighting." I used my free hand to cover my mouth as my eye popped wide open. Sherlock's voice gave away his shock. "Do you remember, Nona?"

I shook my head and was terrified he would leave me at the station. But Sherlock just settled back in his seat and gently squeezed my hand. "Must be that intuition of yours. It will come back eventually." At that he lapped into silence and shut his eyes. Yet, I just knew he was tense. If it weren't for how he was holding my hand, I would have gotten up and left. It was as if he was scared that I would do just that.

We arrived at Charing Cross Station in the late afternoon, but it was very hot. I almost wanted to get on the next train going back to Sherlock's family manor. The three of us shared a cab and soon I was taking in all of the sights as we sped towards our flat. People were the first thing that hit me. There were so many people that I felt a little closed in compared to how free and open it was in the country. And the many buildings did little to help me. But this was home. That I was certain of, yet there was something tickling me in the back of my mind. A wall and panicking … but that couldn't mean anything important, so I kept it to myself.

The cab ride home did nothing to jar my memories loose. Once we arrived at the flat we got out and I could see that my friends were hopeful, but I had to shake my head. I hated causing the sorrowful looks that came to their faces. Watson was sure that it would simply be a matter of time before I would begin to remember, but it felt as if my memories were simply waiting for their cue. Now if I could only find out what was the cue so I could remember already!

Walking into the building, I did get a feeling of belonging in that place, but it was only a feeling. Sherlock told me to not worry because I had followed my intuition before and it had more often been the correct choice.  I had a thought hit me as he smirked. "I remember telling you that it has to do with how a woman's brain is wired. And you laughed. Right?" 

"Excellent, Nona! See; being home is already calling your memories back. Ah, here comes Watson and Mrs. Hudson now. Have you explained everything, Watson?" 

Watson nodded as the sweet woman I felt familiar with came over and pulled me into a hug. "My poor Nona-bird. Well we'll just ease you back into the routine and hope that everyday normalcy brings your memories back." 

I couldn't help but smile at that. 

I went into my small room and started unpacking my bag. I was surprised to find a scruffy outfit, a pair of cracked glasses, and a second hand violin in the bottom of it. There were also some outfits that I couldn't decide were male or female. Shaking my head, I opened my wardrobe to a shock. Inside was the most beautiful gown I had ever seen in my life! A deep Tuscany-wine red that was alight with the fire of something in my mind. An opera … a card … a watch … and the feeling I got from Sherlock when he had carried me to the carriage the day I awoke without my memories, but it was different. I was being carried into the house. It was all so foggy and I was so intent on pulling these memories together that I didn't notice Holmes standing in the doorway of my room. "What's wrong, Nona?" 

"Holmes, you startled me." I explained what I was able to glean from my past. It felt good to know that I put that sweet smile on his face. The smile only brightened with what I had to tell him next. "When I was being carried into the house I felt so safe and loved. It reminded me of when you carried me out of that manor you found me in. Like you wouldn't let anyone take me from you." 

When he took me into his arms and hugged me tight, I felt my heart race with joy. Somehow this was a rare happening, but I wasn't sure why. I knew then that I was deeply in love with this man. And, unless I was wrong, he had to care for me in some fashion or another. His words only sealed him in my heart forever. "I'll never let anyone take you from me without your consent, Nona. That I promise you."

**

That night, I tossed and turned in my small bed. In my dreams, a memory surfaced, a horrible one. A man walked up on me, but I was dressed worse than a tramp … no it was something else. The outfit was casual where I came from. But where was it? Not here in England … that was why my accent is so different for most of my friends.

The man . . . he was drunk. He made a move at me and I thrust my knee into his groin. Other men started chasing me! I was running and running. I couldn't get away! I … I …

I woke up with a loud scream. One that was loud enough to wake Holmes and Watson, as well as Mrs. Hudson. All three were in my room in moments.

"Nona-bird?"

"Nona!" Holmes looked as if he had feared the worse, but was grateful I was safe and sound.

Watson too looked relieved. "Are you alright, Nona?"

"No." I sighed before I broke down into tears. Forgetting all rules of etiquette, Holmes sat on the edge of my bed and pulled me into his arms. Mrs. Hudson too sat beside me, rubbing my back to calm me down. Watson stood there looking concerned.

After a beat, he realized what had happened. "Nona, tell us about the nightmare."

This surprised me, but not Holmes. I guessed that he had seen it too. After a few breaths, I went over the various images in my dream. Watson asked me to let the dream go on. I remember more running, feeling like I wanted to give up, wishing for help or a weapon … and then it clicked. I understood why he was smiling and his eyes were shining with such hope. "It's a memory! That was when we first met. You saved me from those scalawags!" That made them all chuckle, but Holmes held a new look for our friend. He didn't know, but I noticed him mouth the words 'thank you' to Watson, who simply nodded with a knowing smile on his face.

By now I was calm, and we were all tired. Even though it felt good when Holmes held me in his arms, he helped me settle back on my bed and tucked me under the blankets like a child – seeing that Mrs. Hudson was speaking to Watson, he winked and kissed my head. "Sleep well, my sweet Nona."

I couldn't hold back my smile. I knew without fear that if I were ever in danger, this man (along with Watson and Mrs. Hudson) would move mountains and oceans to save me. That was enough comfort to get me through the rest of the night.

The next day, I had to practically beg to help Mrs. Hudson in any shape or form. It took an unusual memory coming back to do it. It was lunch, and as with after breakfast, the good woman refused to let me help her with the dishes. Watson and Holmes were no help as they hid behind the papers that did nothing to hide their chuckles. And then it came to me hard.

"Martha Hudson, I've done dishes for nearly a year without breaking any. I think that I would be able to do them safely even if I have whatever this amnesia is called!"

That held everyone silent in shock. Both men had dropped their papers, and poor Mrs. Hudson was near tears. I felt so bad at that moment. Here these people took me into their lives and helped me cope, and now I'm jumping down their throats. "Oh Mrs. Hudson, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"No, dear Nona-bird. Think back to what you said." The now crying woman sputtered out.

For a moment I had no idea what she meant. What had I done to upset her, yet she still used her pet name for me? Seeing my confusion, Holmes smiled warmly at me (and to this day I swear that there were tears in his eyes as well). "Nona dear, what did you call Mrs. Hudson? And remember that we have not told you anything of this near year you have lived with the three of us."

I thought hard for a moment when my eyes went wide in shock. I had another old memory back! "I called her Martha. I had been curious for some reason what your given name was not long after I arrived, and you told me Martha. You couldn't see why you interested me at all. I told you that in my eyes and in the eyes of many of my friends that you are a surrogate mother, grandmother, or aunt to these guys. Watson and Holmes only shook their heads at that, but you gave a long laugh. I remember!"

Now I was the one crying. Martha held me close for a moment while the two men smiled beamingly. It was coming back to me slowly. But it was taking so long! Still I finally got to do a chore for my 'honorary aunt' – polishing the silver. Mrs. Hudson was in the cellar checking on what preserves she was going to teach me to make the next day, and the men were upstairs doing their routines. And then the door sounded just as I finished drying one of the large platters. "I got it!" I knew that no one else was near enough to hear me, but it made me feel happy. I felt alive in this place and was happy to be home, sweet home. I paused at the door when that thought rung in my mind. I knew there was a memory attached to it, one where Holmes was saying it to me in a mixture of pain and grief. I shook it off. I didn't want that kind of memory to surface now, especially when it concerned my Holmes.

Opening the door finally, I met a lovely young woman with blond hair. Her outfit was attractive but inexpensive, telling me that she was not of great wealth, but had enough to get by. She nervously bit on her bottom lip as she looked in her reticule for a calling card. That meant she was unsure about her case and if Holmes would take it, but she truly wanted his help. Obviously Holmes's processes had rubbed off on me in the time I had lived here in 221b, though I had a feeling there was something else about my train of thought. Once she handed it to me I looked at the card. It was plainly printed and simply read "Miss Mary Morstan." For some odd reason I recognized that name, but I somehow knew that we did not have her as a client in the past. How did I know her?

After a beat, I let her into the vestibule and told her that I would see if Mr. Holmes was in. There was this feeling of something important coming about for us all that gnawed on me as I quickly climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. "Come in, Nona."

"Client, Holmes, and she's nervous about talking to you. Maybe it's an unusual one." I said as I handed him the card. I saw that the Moroccan case was open and the little bottle of clear liquid was near it. God, I wish Watson could rid Holmes of that annoying habit!

He looked it over and languidly smiled at me a moment. "Nona, are you busy at the moment?" I loved the intense look Holmes held in his eyes and the smile he was straining to hold back. He only did that when he was going to introduce me as one of his associates rather than a neighbor or servant. That eased my aching heart, even if he hurt me when he drugged himself, and even if that only happened when there was no work to keep him busy.

"I was polishing the silver, but I think that the last three pieces can wait a bit. Shall I bring Miss Morstan up?" I tried hard to hide the pleasure and excitement in my voice so he knew how I felt at that moment, but I could see clearly on his and Watson's faces that it showed plainly. Holmes smiled brighter and nodded. I fought the urge to skip down the stairs, and was happy that Mrs. Hudson was coming up the stairs just as I got to the main floor. "Mrs. Hudson? Holmes wants me to sit in on this interview. I'll finish the last three pieces of silver afterwards."

"No need, Nona dear. They can wait until just before Advent. I only asked so you would have something to do." She said with a smile before walking back into the kitchen. I was stunned. Our landlady was getting to be more like Holmes, and that was a very frightening concept.

Shaking my head, I escorted the young lady up to the future. When she and I walked into the room, Miss Morstan and Watson took one look at one another and I could see they were falling for one another. Holmes introduced Watson and then, when he introduced me, he looked only in my eyes and I saw something there – pride … maybe devotion – that made me feel as if our relationship was taking a turn into new and unexplored areas. I knew that we had feelings for one another, but he wasn't ready to explore them. As the interview began, she acted embarrassed at first by our added presences. Watson and I nearly left for her sake, but Miss Morstan insisted on our remaining.

It was an interesting case. Her father had gone missing sometime before and wanted to find him. Holmes and Watson agreed to go with her to a strange meeting, because the note told her to bring two friends if she was wary. When looking over the notes Miss Morstan had brought with her, Holmes showed me the finer points of why the various handwritings were written by the same person. I went to show her to the door when Holmes called out, "Nona, could you come back up right away?"

That was unusual, but I didn't mind so I agreed. In minutes I returned to see that the men had a disagreement – though not a severe one. Holmes continued his lesson on handwriting for both Watson and myself. And then Holmes left asking me about a book I vaguely remembered reading and thinking it was layered and interesting, which brought out smiles on my roommates. Why, I will never know.

Holmes was back at five-thirty in a bright mood. It seemed that Major Sholto had died a week before Miss Morstan received her first pearl. Not long after explaining why this fact was important, a four-wheeler pulled up. Watson took up one of his heavier walking sticks, and I saw Holmes take his revolver out of his desk. I felt my heart rush with fear. Somehow I knew that normally Holmes never took that with him on a case. This told me he expected some danger I didn't see. "Holmes …"

"It is merely a precaution, Nona. Watson and I will be home as soon as we can. Now, don't wait up for us if it becomes late." Holmes instructed. But it did little to calm my heart. I simply nodded, as Watson squeezed my shoulder before going out the door. Holmes kissed my forehead and smiled for me, which was his way of telling me he would be careful, but I was still scared for them. I watched them climb into that four-wheeler and it drive away. I didn't care how late it became; I was determined to wait up for those two. And so I did.

In the time I finished the last three pieces of silver, cleaned a few dishes, ate dinner with Mrs. Hudson, and retired to the sitting room fire and Holmes' chair. For some reason I got up and began to walk around the room – inspecting things, touching others, and all the time carrying a feeling of déjà vu. The only thing missing was … Watson! The night I first came to Baker street … my nightmare … it all came back – I was amazed at being in this place for some reason or another, but everything was familiar to me even though I had never been here before then. 

It was nearly three in the morning when Watson came home with no Holmes. "How is it that I expected you to be awake, Nona?"

"I can be at times predictable. Where's Holmes?" I was near panic by this time. Watson explained that he had left Holmes with orders to escort Miss Morstan home and come retrieve me. Quickly I got ready and climbed into the four-wheeler with Watson. Then the two of us appeared and rudely awoke Mr. Sherman of No. 3 Pinchin Lane and, with my sweet smile and compliments about a certain stuffed owl I saw over his shoulder, procured a dog by the name of Toby. As we rushed to Holmes, Watson explained the early particulars he later would write out in 'The Sign of the Four'. 

Before long, we all returned to Baker Street (my please my friends with the news of my new found memory), ate breakfast (with a glaring Mrs. Hudson going on about how I should have stayed home), and each slid into our own beds for what was supposed to be an hour or two's sleep. That might have been how it happened for Holmes and Watson, but I was left to sleep. I had no idea if it was due to Mrs. Hudson's glare or the fact that Holmes held a worried look on his face as I yawned my way through breakfast, but I did not wake until long after lunch.

One item of mention that I had touch my heart happened this particular morning. All of the Irregulars arrived and lined up, the tallest of them (I overheard Holmes call the boy Wiggins as he accepted their report) coming forward to report in. What got me was the lonely sadness in the boys' eyes when they all glanced at me. I supposed that they all knew me well and seemed to adore me. I just wished that I could remember them.

I ate and got caught up on the case by Watson, along with accompanying him on his visit to Miss Morstan and the young woman's employer. I couldn't help but smile and shook my head. I saw the twinkle in the good doctor's eyes. John Watson was very much falling in love with Mary Morstan. Another sleep later gave us no news on the boat or Small or his friend.

Holmes was in his room pacing and muttering to himself, as he had been all that night and the entire day and night before. I dared to knock on his door. I knew it would be a battle, but he had to get something in his stomach. "Holmes, it's Nona."

He opened the door and I stepped into the doorway. "Sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes. Now will you join us for some breakfast so poor Mrs. Hudson can rest her ears for a time?" I grinned. His bangs had fallen and were in his eyes. Unconsciously, I swept them back so that I could see those amazing gray eyes I adored. Holmes caught my hand and pressed it to his cheek. The sensations it sent through my body were like bolts of pleasurable lighting licking up and down my nerves. I could see in his eyes that I had the same effect on him. But then I was feeling such pain and grief at the same time.

"Nona. You know my meals are sporadic at best on a case." His voice was throaty and warm. 

I wasn't going to let that excuse put me off. "Holmes, it is time to eat. The facts will come to us in their own time. You pacing and skipping meals will not hurry that. Besides, standing here is painful. Like we have had a fight here … no … not here … but we've had a fight … I'm sure of it."

That surprised Holmes, and it showed on his face. "Do you remember it, Nona?"

I fought with my love? How could I not remember that? I shook my head. "No, it is more a memory of the feelings."

Holmes looked so injured because of my words, but brushed them aside. "It will return to you in its own time as well, my dear Nona. For now I will do as you command and eat. If only to set you at ease, as well as being kind to Mrs. Hudson's ears." With that he smirked mischievously and winked at me. Impishly, I combed my fingers through his hair once again and kissed his cheek before heading back for the sitting room. "Do me a favor and don't dawdle, Holmes. Or else I'll eat your breakfast."

The next morning, after chasing both Watson and myself out of the sitting room with his chemical experiments the day I talked him into eating breakfast, he went out and left Watson and I in charge of the 'office' as he smirked. Mrs. Hudson wanted all of my attention on the case and refused to let me help with the dishes once again – though I believed that she was hoping it would help my memory come back quicker. We were to open all notes and telegrams and decide how to act on them according to our own judgments. I walked over and seated myself in his chair as if it was completely normal, which brought out a chuckle and shake of his head. I myself simply sat there innocently as I looked through the morning paper. In a twist of a vague memory, he rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head before dashing off. I was stunned, while all Watson could do was sit there smirking and laughing heartily at the look of stunned shock on my face. With a sigh I went back to the Standard, only to chuckle myself. "Well, Watson, Sholto was released from custody along with the housemaid yesterday. Can't say we didn't see that one coming."

"No, we cannot, Nona. Anything else?" I read it out to Watson and then chuckled hard. 

"Well, reading between the lines we can deduce that the police are really saying 'Oops, sorry, but we made a small blunder.'" That made Watson chuckle as hard as I was. And then I saw an advertisement in the agony column. I handed it over to Watson. "So, this is what Holmes meant by him being sure information would be coming in today sometime." Watson agreed.

I was answering the door all day, but was as disappointed as Watson that no leads or information of any kind came in. About three o'clock, loudmouthed Athelney Jones arrived. He and I went upstairs. At first he (just as LeRat had – though I couldn't remember why I'd call Lestrade by that name or when he had ever disrespected me) assumed that I was a maidservant and tried to dismiss me. That was one thing that Nona E. Brown was not going to go through seemingly a second time. "Excuse me, Inspector Jones, firstly I am an associate of Mr. Holmes' like Dr. Watson. And even if I had been simply hired help, it is exceedingly rude to dismiss another person's help in their own home as if you own the place."

Watson had a dickens of a time keeping himself from bursting with prideful laughter. Even if I keep silent on this, I knew that Holmes would hear all about it from our friendly resident doctor. Why did that phrasing sound almost familiar? I shook it off. Jones huffed and curtly apologized as he sat down on the furthest end of the couch away from me in Holmes' chair under Watson's invitation after explaining that Holmes was out. The poor guy, from my viewpoint, was disheartened and lowly. Obviously he was getting it from his supervisors about the false arrests, and had as many or even fewer new leads as we. I decided to forgive him for the earlier rudeness, only this once though. Watson offered him a cigar and a glass of whiskey and soda. Jones explained that my earlier jab and current observation had both been correct. And then he highly praised Holmes, which I couldn't help but smile at – even if he over did it, which meant he was lying through his teeth. He explained that Holmes sent him a telegram and handed it over to Watson, who gave it to me, and gave it back to the Inspector after reading it.

**GO TO BAKER STREET AT ONCE STOP IF I HAVE NOT RETURNED WAIT FOR ME STOP I AM CLOSE ON THE TRACK OF THE SHOLTO GANG STOP YOU CAN COME WITH US TO-NIGHT IF YOU WANT TO BE IN AT THE FINISH STOP HOLMES**

After a slight civil conversation, the wheezing mariner appeared as Watson wrote in the adventure. When he scanned the room and spied me, he removed his hat like a gentleman. As it came down, right when it blocked his eyes from the other two, I swore those gray eyes sparkled as he winked at me! Wait … gray eyes? And then he grinned like … oh man, I fell for it too this time! As unperceivable as I could, I nodded with a second span smile – meaning I was ready and willing to help.

It happened very much as Watson wrote it. Simply add on my offering to pay the man for his time, doting on the poor man, offering him the chair that only I and Holmes normally sat in instead of the sofa that Watson had offered (I though that would have given us away to Watson at the least!), and offering him a drink (which he accepted, only brush his fingers down my hand and whisper his thanks with a grin while my back was to Watson and Jones). And then Holmes, in his true voice, mentioned about offering him a cigar before removing his costume. That night (once they returned from the completion of the case that is) I pointed all of this out to Watson who couldn't believe that he hadn't picked up on the chair point.

I excused myself to go help Mrs. Hudson fix dinner … that is, after giving Holmes a smile and a wink. The look in his eyes was enough tease in return, on that I can assure you. Instead of the half hour, it took an easy twenty minutes. I was mildly surprised by the polite treatment I received from Jones as we all sat down to dinner. It seemed that when Holmes found out about his treatment of me he agreed with my observations and made so known semi-gruffly. 

Dinner was excellent. And Holmes praised that my new recipe for roasted brace of grouse to be the best he had ever had, along with Watson and Jones' agreements to the same. I blushed because it was my first try at it (with quite a bit of help from Mrs. Hudson). But dessert was saved as reward for the successful completion of the night's mission.

Holmes was excited like a kid on Christmas Eve with a tree overflowing with presents during the impromptu dinner party! He talked about all the subjects Watson had covered. And even hit a few I had a large knowledge of, so I got some time to talk in myself. It almost felt as if we two were a married couple simply entertaining guests – and I overheard Jones even point that out to Watson while Holmes went for his violin to illustrate several of his points about a Stradivarius. It was hard to hide my blush at that, and I could see on his face that he had planned on that from the start. He had wanted to show Jones just how much I meant to him and Watson.

Mrs. Hudson and I cleared the table. I came back to see that the men were getting ready for the adventure. Something in Holmes' eyes told me that I wasn't going along with them. Before I could even say a word he asked me to help him locate something so we would have cover to go to his bedroom door. I was angry, but kept my voice down. "Holmes!"

"Nona, I have come far too close to losing you. I want you here because I know I won't be able to keep my thoughts straight if you are in danger with us." Holmes' lowered voice told me that there was no arguing on it.

Still it hurt. "And I'm going to be sane while you and Watson are out there? Didn't I prove myself at the Goose and Crown? Or had you forgotten that little adventure?"

Holmes was in shock. I didn't understand for a beat. Then I saw it had to be another memory. "Holmes … did I just remember?"

"Yes, you did Nona. We'll go over it when we come back and fill you in on the details of tonight's adventure." Holmes rubbed my arms. It just annoyed me. "Sherlock…!"

"Please stay here, Nona. I won't be able to focus right now without you knowing how this venture ends – as you probably once did. Please …" Holmes' eyes grew dark with such passion, I couldn't help but kiss him passionately. I had been wanting too for so long, long than I dared to suspect.

I was just grateful that he kissed me back, along with holding me tight to his body, his lips brushing and pressing tight to mine. How long we stood there kissing I couldn't say with any certainty. That first kiss broke off only to be followed with several lighter kisses finally diving back into a deep hungered kiss once again. I could have stood there kissing him all night, it felt so good … so right. Still, there was a case to solve, so I broke it with the deepest of regrets and sighs on both sides – but not without a remark. "You owe me big for this, you know that."

"Come October 21st, I'll plan a special night for the two of us. Alright?" Holmes had a gleam in his eyes that told me he was already making up plans.

I nodded, gave him a hug that he returned to me, and we returned to the sitting room (never knowing that Watson had come out into the hall to look for us and just as quickly returned to the sitting room to make an excuse to give us a little more time). All too soon the men were off, and well … it happened just like Watson wrote it. Holmes used the dart in the boat to explain why he had been so afraid to let me come with them. Small pointed out that I would have been seen as a weakness and his friend's dart gun would have been aimed for me. Holmes pointed out firmly (I swear he glared at Small!) that I had never, and nor would I ever, be a weakness. After Watson came back with the empty treasure chest, and Small went mad and tried to break free only to be restrained further, Holmes kept me beside him to protect me (I sat on the arm of his chair to Jones and the other officer's shock – though not Watson's). I knew without a doubt that Sherlock Holmes loved me right at that moment.

After all our guests had left, Watson announced his plans to marry Miss Morstan. We were both overjoyed, but it felt off for me so Holmes joked about how his author could put some nasty words in for him. After it was only himself, Watson, and me Holmes reached once again for the cocaine bottle, and I tested just how much he loved me. "Holmes, please don't. I don't want to lose you to that. Not to an addiction."

"Nona …" He started but I wasn't going to let him off that easily. 

"Sherlock, please.  I'm not sure how, but I know that stuff will break down your mind until the drug and the high is the only thing you will start to care about."

For a few minutes Holmes stared blankly at the little vial. Was it too late? Did the seven-per-cent solution have complete control over him? Finally, he let go a hard sigh and I could just see tears brimming his eyes. "My mind …"

Not even that little monologue was going to stop me in this fight. "If you need a puzzle, then help me find my lost memories! I'll create puzzles, for God's sake! Please, anything but that!"

Looking at the vial one last time, he put it in my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. In my hand too was his trust and faith in me. He was trusting that I would remain with him through the time it took his body to rid itself of the toxins and after. I knew that there would be withdrawal symptoms, and it looked as if he and Watson too understood that. "I'm going to see you through this, Holmes. You've helped me so far with my amnesia, so I owe you for that and so much more."

"I think it is I who truly owe the two of you, my dear Nona … Watson." Holmes sighed again and got himself ready for the long hard fight that was ahead of us all.

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Remember people, more reviews the more I write. Oh, and I still have 6 weeks before summer break, so chapter 20 might be a time in coming – but I will put it out if asked nicely enough.


	2. In Which We Fight for Sherlock’s Life an...

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING**: The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **_EXTREMELY HIGH_** levels of **_BST_** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

**DISCLAIMER**: Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the US they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All BST characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian and NON-Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^ Labyrinth and the reference to Sarah from that film belongs to Jim Henson.

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BST Chapter 14

**In Which We Fight for Sherlock's Life and I Almost Lose Mine**

By Bonnie S.

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**_Nona_** –

I was in no way prepared for the reality of Holmes' battle with his addiction. To be honest, I doubt that even he was ready for it himself. I, along with the two of them, had forgotten that Holmes also regularly used morphine as well, which had **very **different withdrawal symptoms from cocaine. But I swore to be with him through this, and was determined to see him to the end of it and beyond. 

At first he slept for a very long time – two days straight. I sat by his side for most of it – awed that this man would do this just for me, and praying that this would be the worse side effect he was to suffer. After the first night, that peace lulled us into thinking that this would be easy. However, the moment he finally opened his gray eyes it all began to hit him hard. He began feeling deep cravings for the drugs the moment he awoke, but swore to me he wouldn't break so easily or soon. I couldn't help kissing his cheek at that, or being pleased by the smile and slight blush it got out of him. 

Once early on he complained to Watson that his bones ached when the pair didn't know I was outside listening. I had left to get him some water, and wondered if it was a good time to go back in. When I came into the room, he smiled and hid away his pain – except for his deep breathing and aching eyes. He still went through it despite being in pain, only because I asked it of him! Not even Watson had been able to talk Holmes into giving up the needle. Holmes was suffering to please me, to make me happy. I stopped doubting that he cared about me with that tense smile, and kissed his forehead just because. Watson was used to our hugs and occasional kisses – all had been chase and friendly, but I saw that our friend knew there was more to it – probably long before Holmes or I.

Watson and I took turns sitting up with him. In fact Watson had ventured postponing his wedding to Mary until after Holmes was well enough to be there as his best man, and she insisted upon it. Mary was so kind about this, but she believed that it was Holmes taking her case that brought her and Watson together. Somehow I doubted it, but one never knows. Still, if Watson hadn't been there, I doubt Holmes and I would have made it through. He was a rock for us both, just as he had always been and in the years ahead would remain so.

Half way through the fourth morning of fighting his urges to groan in front of me, Holmes began shaking so hard I thought that he was having convulsions. In my mind he was going to die all because I asked him to give the drugs up! I lost it and screamed for Watson, who had only an hour before left to rest in his room – leaving both doors open in case of trouble. He rushed in and did what he could do – including tying Holmes down. He took over for a half hour while Mrs. Hudson took me to the sitting room to calm me down and Holmes' shakes withdrew somewhat. I apologized as I passed him in the hall on my way back into the battle. Dear Watson thought nothing of it. Yet, Holmes wouldn't look me in the eye at first when I got back in his room. I was afraid that he was ashamed of me for running away when he needed me the most and apologized. 

We turned out to be fearing the worse from one another, he had been afraid I was ashamed of his weakness. I kissed his forehead and told him he was not weak and how much I loved and was proud of him. He smiled before he shut his eyes with the smile still in place, "that is the first time you have ever said that you love me, my dear Nona." It took time but eventually he dozed off into a fitful sleep. I was sitting in shock until Watson came in at suppertime to relieve me. I meant it, but I hadn't meant to take advantage of the situation like I had. Besides it seemed to make Holmes happy, and he began to seemingly fight harder afterwards. Maybe accidents happen at just the right time.

Holmes needed that extra boost of will and strength. Soon after my inadvertent admission, he began suffering through severe muscle pains and cramps. I helped where I could by massaging his pains as Watson had showed me on my arm once while the two of us were quietly talking and Holmes slept. At best it was a temporary help, but I knew he enjoyed it and I enjoyed making him feel better. And it only had a slight factor of the fact we could touch and not be harped on by Mrs. Hudson about etiquette. Really that was a small aspect only, honest!

Late one night he started sweating bad, and before long his gown and bed was soaked. I wiped him with cool, damp clothes, and sat in the chair beside him. I had to keep reminding myself that this was all right. That his body was flushing out the drugs. Holmes began talking about anything and everything that came to his mind. I began to wonder if that had been his way, or if he was suffering through another withdrawal symptom.

Soon into the ordeal he became restless, and that made it hard on him to stay in bed for long periods of time. He and I would walk around his room and the sitting room (despite his pain), play chess, he'd listen to me play on his Stradivarius (at his insistance) and when his muscles were in a good mood he'd play for me. At times I would read to him, others he would read to me. We even talked about what times I could remember. Walks we had taken, cases I went with him and Watson on, lessons in deduction he taught me. The man was amazing when he was upbeat like this. 

But there were times where his restlessness went into a black mood. He asked me to not sit with him if Mrs. Hudson or Watson warned me the mood went black. I'd sit in the sitting room, and Watson would shut the door. He was snippy, angry, and cruel to our friend. But what was said I couldn't hear because the door muffled it. I felt so bad for Watson, but he explained that he knew this was not the Holmes he knew and respected when the words and glares turned foul. I still couldn't help feeling guilty of not taking the brunt. He and Holmes insisted that if I was lucky enough to be spared what seemingly sent me away the last time then it was worth it. To be honest, I think there were times Holmes went into the Black mood when I was in the room but bit his tongue until I was out of clear earshot, because the snipping would go into effect the moment the door closed at times. Could that mean that he loved me too?

Holmes refused to give up one piece of control to the drug withdrawal, the bathroom. His moods, pain, sweating, and muscle control he couldn't dictate, but the toilet was one piece of body control Holmes struggled to be in command of. Watson and I would help him in and Watson would stay in the room with him to keep him from getting hurt, but Holmes was in complete command of that – even when the diarrhea started.

Sometimes he would complain about freezing and we would heap blankets on him, and whenever we could get away with it, I laid right next to him with a blanket over me. Watson only smiled and shook his head at us. He wasn't a prude when it came to my relationship with Holmes, because he knew nothing was happening that was in anyway demoralizing or scandalous going on – I was only helping the man I love, as simple as that. Sometimes I did wonder if Holmes didn't get suddenly cold now and again to be able to snuggle against me, especially one afternoon in particular. Mrs. Hudson had just gone to the market, and Watson was asleep in his room.

"Nona …" He sounded so weak, it broke my heart.

I rushed to his side and brushed the bangs from his forehead. "I'm right here."

"It's too cold again." He sighed. I knew he hated to let me see him weak, but I wasn't going to leave his side. I quickly had him covered with all of the blankets we had in his room. He still looked uncomfortable. "Still cold?" When he nodded, I started to climb under the first blanket. At the last moment I pulled up five, maybe six, and climbed onto the bed beside him. There were still three blankets at least separating us, and it was just us. I saw nothing wrong with lying with him, and Mrs. Hudson wouldn't have to know.

Holmes pushed the blankets that held us apart enough to get his arms out, meaning in part he did it to be able to hold me. He didn't have to ask, and I did have to answer. I snuggled closer and let him clutch me close to him as I settled the blankets that were over me across his arms up to my neck. I know that if he had a mood swing or started shaking again that I could have been hurt, but I didn't care at that moment. Holmes needed me, and I was going to do anything to help him. He sighed in contentment as I settled next to him. We stayed like that for over two hours – or so I guessed.

It felt so wonderful being in his arms. I had been fighting my yawns hard, and (sorry to say) I soon feel asleep. When I woke it was getting dark, Holmes was seemingly out of it, and a smirking Watson was simply reading the evening paper in the chair by the bed – our chaperone as always. I lay there just looking at Holmes for a moment. He was so handsome, and I couldn't imagine a day in my life without him in it. But then he groaned.

"Holmes? Are you too hot?" When he weakly nodded, Watson and I pulled off the covers I had been under as I got up. He groaned again, but this time there was a smirk on his face. "Cheeky. Thanks for the nap."

"You needed your sleep. Wouldn't want to lose that beauty of yours." Did Sherlock just compliment me? And why did it feel strange? I brushed it aside for the moment, as Watson chuckled. "Still too hot?" He nodded and I took away more of the blankets – eventually he felt comfortable with a sheet and my wiping his face with a washcloth and cool water. He had this smile on his face I would never forget. 

One day he woke up from an exhausting nap as I was reading to myself. My wonderful and loving Holmes had unwittingly turned into the Hyde from Hell!

"Why am I suffering through this torment … woman?" He growled half in his pillow and half at me. The look in his eyes was so cold and scarily reminded me of the Sir Siger of old. Whoa, his new attitude brought out a scary memory that I didn't want to clarify any time soon. I marked my place, set the book aside, and looked into his eyes while keeping my voice as calm as I could. If I said anything wrong it could turn him violent, and I saw the end product of his anger on Darby Edwards – no, thank you anyway. "What do you mean, Holmes?"

His glare became harder and his breath came in sharp draws, but he kept his voice low and deadpanned – completely void of any and all feeling. That was what frightened me the most. "What I mean is why should I go through all of this torture when the relief I need is in the sitting room waiting on me?"

I could tell he wanted to goad me into another huge fight so I would leave and he would be free to continue his drug use in peace. But, I wasn't about to make it that easy for him to go back into the hole that I was certain he was nearly out of. He was willing to start this, well then I was ready and willing to stand by him every step along the way. "Yes, I guess it is. And yes you could get out of that bed, go into the sitting room, and relieve your suffering." He started to sit up; I had to give him a consequence and quick. I only prayed that he wouldn't call my bluff. "However …"

"However what, _oh so sweet and perfect Nona_?" He sneered at me with contempt. There was that familiar feeling again. It was like we had been through all of this before. If I only had my memories back!

Firming myself before him I decided this was where we found out if this relationship (however much of it was made up in my head) would last. "If you go in there and inject yourself with that … garbage, I will leave out the front door and this time you will never find me. Are you willing to lose one of your most trusted friends? Will you set the drugs above the one woman who is willing to sit by you through this agony if you would only endure it long enough to no longer need what you are a slave to?"

"I am not a slave to no thing and no woman!" Holmes roared at me. I could see that every muscle in his body was tensed. One wrong move and he would attack me in his pain and frustration. Oh God, how did I get him into this state? More importantly … how was I going to get him out of it? I kept my voice gentle, even as it shook with my fear. "I never said that you were my slave, Holmes. I simply asked you to give up what has been slowly killing you for years. It was your choice."

"Don't tell me about my choices, woman. It was a mistake permitting you to stay here. All for a book! What was I thinking? Stupid woman, this pain is all your fault!" My heart throbbed when he roared those words at me, and then it stopped completely as he got to his feet and forcefully walked over to the door. When he laid his hand on the knob, I felt a part of me die. It looked as if I was too late to save him from himself. Part of me wanted to collapse back into the chair in defeat, but I wasn't going to seem weak before him. 

He stood there for several moments, as if waiting for me to say something. He didn't leave, but he didn't return to bed either. It was as if we were in some kind of limbo of neither here nor there, one wrong word and I knew that I'd lose him forever. Finally I broke the silence. "What are you doing?"

"Are you not going to admonish me, my oh so perfect Nona? Are you not going to throw a tantrum about how **_you_** are more important than my suffering and that I should be focusing on what **_you_** want? No? Then why are you not whining about how bad it is being here with me? Or just how selfish I am?" Holmes snapped with each question, and it hurt. But I reminded myself that this was not my Holmes talking – it was the monster I had to defeat to get back the man I loved so very much.

"Holmes, I am far from perfect. I'm the one that has only a few memories of my past and that is probably my own damn fault. And no I am not going to throw a tantrum, because that would only give you a false reason for getting drugged. How just important I am is up to you Holmes, not me. As to what I think we should be or what I want that doesn't seem to really matter. And it isn't bad being here. I've gotten used to it. Besides, if you were being selfish you would be in the sitting room with a needle in your arm right now." He was pushing my buttons, so I had to push back now, for his own good. "Do you miss the days before I came to live here?"

"YES! … No … ugh!" He grabbed his stomach as he collapsed at the door. I got up to go to him. "Stay away from me, damn you! This is entirely your fault! I wished I had never gone to look for you in the first place! Should have forgotten you ever existed!"

I knew that his words were due to the drug withdraw, but it still hurt. I couldn't hide back my tears – from my eyes or my throat. "I just … I was going to help you get back in bed."

"That isn't where I'm going. The only way to get rid of you is to get to my needle! And that too will end this pain!" Again he collapsed to the floor, and began to rock because the pain in his abdomen obviously was so intense.

Maybe the truth was out and he never wanted to deal with me. "If you want me to move out, all you have to do is say so. That isn't hard to do."

"I w-w-want y-y-you gone! Get out!" He shivered out. It hurt more than anything I could imagine. Still I had to do right by him, he wanted me gone then I would have to leave. The feelings I thought he had for me were obviously a lie I had created for myself. But it didn't explain that night of the ball. I remembered part of it, and a little of the days before! Those dances … the fact that he had stayed for it in the first place … that oh so sweet brushing kiss, but there was a scream! And our kisses in the hallway before he, Watson, and Jones left to track down Smith. I prayed hard that it was only the drugs talking.

"Then why did you kiss me, and ask if I regretted coming to this time at the ball? I remember parts of that night, Holmes. Why did you beg me to stay here and kiss me and promise a night to ourselves the first anniversary of my arriving here the night you and the others went after Smith? If I had gone that first day I bet that I would have died and you wouldn't have had to worry about me. Was it all just what I imagined, or did you once have some kind of feeling for me?" For a long time Holmes said nothing. I was afraid that it had been too much and that he had died on my watch. "Holmes?"

"I heard you, you conniving witch!"

Well at least he wasn't dead. But he wasn't answering me either. Should I hope or dread his answer? Finally he just sighed hard. "I don't know."

"What do you want me to do, Holmes?" I was so scared. Would he tell me to leave again? Would I be able to do it?

He panted and shivered. When he finally looked at me I saw that shattered frightened man that I met next to his mother's tomb … when we first went to his family's home … when we … we … we rescued his elder brother from the charge of murder. More of my memories were being drawn out through all of this hardship. His voice was shaky and full of grief, fear, and loneliness "Stay … please. I'm so sorry. Nona …" He broke down. God, I couldn't leave him. I rushed over to his side and pulled him into my arms, combing my fingers into his hair. That calmed me and seemed to calm him, as if he knew with my touch he wouldn't lose me. "I'm here Holmes. I'm not going to leave you. This is where I belong."

"Holding onto a sobbing weakling?" Holmes taunted as he fought to regain control again. God, I couldn't wait for these symptoms to leave him forever. "No, holding onto the world's greatest consulting detective and the man …" Oh God, I almost took advantage of the situation again! This was not the time or place to admit my feelings for him when he wasn't sure how he felt. But, would he leave it be?

"The man what, Nona?" I wished that he had just left it alone. Now the truth was loose, and I wouldn't be able to hide it again. Taking a breath and swallowing hard, I took the last step – only I made sure he knew that I meant to say each word by holding him tighter. "The man that I love with all of my heart forever, Holmes."

Holmes grabbed a tight hold of my waist like Virgil always did in childhood joy when I appeared for a visit; only this hold was fear provoked – afraid that I would leave him as he had shouted for me to do. With that truth on his heart, I pulled his shivering body closer and hugged him tighter, rocking ever so slightly. He sobbed out in agony, "Nona, don't leave me. Please, I'm sorry Nona. I do love you, and have for a long time. Please, I need you with me." I could almost hear the young boy who sobbed out for his parents at one time. It twisted my heart that he had ever hurt this badly in his life. I wasn't sure how, but I knew that this was not how the world normally saw him, and that he had a hard childhood.

"I'm not going anywhere, Holmes. This is my home. Wherever you are, I am home. What do you want to do now?" I loved the feeling of his embrace, and his words of love. But, the truth was he still had a decision to make. One that no one but he could make – the drugs or me.

For a moment he was quiet, but I could feel in his body that he was thinking. "If we were to wed … and someday had a child … it wouldn't do for he … or she … to see their father addicted to drugs … am I right?" Holmes stuttered out. I was in shock, had he – in his own unique way that is – asked me to marry him? I was stunned. He looked up at me and in his eyes were love, fear, hope, and beneath all of that was such deep, dark despair. He was expecting me to say no. I smiled softly, enjoying how the hope and love lit up brighter with it. "Exactly. Kids do anything their parents do to be accepted by them. Do you want our future kids using cocaine and morphine?"

His eyes grew wide and that underlying despair vanished completely. Before I could react, he kissed me deeply. What could I do but kiss him back? That way he knew I was serious; I wanted to be his wife. When we pulled back, both of us needed air and were smiling. "They won't learn that habit from me. Watson is going to crow about he knew we would do this."

I laughed. Yes, we were getting married – Holmes and I. It might have been against Victorian etiquette, the way we went about our proposal, but given I had no idea where my family was and he was battling for his life, I think it was the best proposal I had ever heard. Mrs. Sherlock Holmes … I couldn't believe it. "So, let's get you in bed and fight this together. Isn't that what married people do … fight their battles together?"

Holmes smiled and nodded. "At least what battles they can fight together … like this one."

He was weak and leaned heavily on me, but the fire in his eyes and the smile on his face told me his inner strength was renewed with our engagement. I laid him back onto the mattress and tucked him in, just as he had me when I had that awful nightmare my first night home. The smile on his face never wavered, even when I saw him suffer through a severe back spasm. He finally rolled on his side and I moved to help him. "Here, tell me if this helps."

I kneaded the muscles about where I thought he was having the trouble. At first he winced, but shortly he groaned in pleasure. It had helped, just like every other time. I hazily remembered I had suffered through spasms in my back long before, but … how? "I have been wanting to ask you how did you know to do that?"

"Um, I don't know. At first Watson showed me on my arm. But, I think I had spasms in my back before, and my … I think my mom did this for me. See what you do to me. You're starting to make me whole." I smiled at him with a tear in my eye. As it fell he wiped it away with a smile of contentment on his own lips. "Just as you are doing so for me, my Nona."

That made my heart race. He **_had_** proposed! "Forever, my Sherlock. Forever and always."

He slid into a fitful sleep with that smile on his face. I couldn't help but kiss him on the cheek. And it wasn't all that wrong; after all we were engaged. I sat down and still marveled at it. Holmes had asked me to marry him, and I had said yes – though neither of us used those exact words really. Still he had asked! God, how I loved that man! I dosed off in the chair next to him, only to be woken later by Watson. "Go get some rest, Nona. I can take over here."

"He's making progress, Watson. I mean real progress!" I cheered happily but quietly. Holmes had so little rest; I didn't want to wake him. Looking up at our friend, I saw a knowing look on his face. "Watson?"

"Mrs. Hudson I and overheard most of it. Congratulations Nona." I chuckled at that. Never thought the news would slip that fast. "Thanks Watson. You're right though; the both of us need some sleep. Goodnight." I went downstairs, slid under my blankets, and dosed off to dreamland – dreams of my future. Since Holmes decided to get clean for Watson and myself I had been getting less and less sleep. Holmes had encompassed all of my thoughts, which made getting to sleep more than difficult – always afraid that I would wake up to find out that he had perished while I was sleeping. And now I was feeling the strain of it all. Still that one night had made for it and then some! Sherlock Holmes loved me and wanted me as his wife – and I had said yes!

I still felt that sweet smile caused by his proposal sitting on my face as I heard a banging on my bedroom door. "Nona-bird! Nona-bird wake up! It's Mr. Holmes!"

That had my eyes snapped wide open and my smile torn away in a heartbeat, something was wrong with my fiancé. I jumped out of bed, threw on my robe, and ripped open the door. "Mrs. Hudson, what's wrong?"

"Oh, he's carrying on about how you have left us forever. He wants to die!" Mrs. Hudson wept onto my shoulder. I should have never left his side for an instant. Mentally I kicked myself for being so selfish as to come down to sleep in my bed when Sherlock needed me still.

The pair of us ran up the stairs and down the hall to the still open bedroom door. Before we even got to the door I could hear Holmes sobbing out my name so painfully. "Nona please … Nona … don't go! If she leaves Watson, end it for me … please. Don't make me live a moment without her again!" It broke my heart.

Watson pulled back from Holmes just as I got in the room; he was doing all he could to make Holmes see that I hadn't left at all without resorting to waking me up. I saw the relief in the good doctor's eyes as he looked up to see me running in. "Holmes, look. I told you that Nona hadn't left. See, she's right here."

When his eyes met mine, I could see the man I loved was shattered and worn by this ordeal. I could only pray it would soon end. He sobbed out my name, and I rushed to his side. "Sherlock I'm right here. I was only downstairs sleeping. How can I leave you in the middle of the night in my nightgown and robe?"

Holmes clutched his arms tight around me as if I vanish the second he let go. "Nona. I did say horrid things to you! You were angry and left me. I know it … I remember it all clearly now … forgive me." He sobbed into my neck.  I held him tighter and kissed his cheek. I nearly decided to give up and inject him myself to end his torments, but he had come this far. No, I had to be the strong one now … for him.  "I am not angry with you, and I haven't left at all. There is nothing to forgive. I love you Sherlock, for now and always." I whispered into his ear.

That seemed to calm his breathing, but he still clung to me for his life. Obviously he relived our fight in a nightmare, and my holding him was starting to wake him from that dark dream. I didn't mind it at all. It felt so good to be in his arms that I just let him cling securely to me as I rocked him gently. I had no idea why, but I started humming soft and low as he sat there allowing me to rock him. Some country song I could remember my roommate … yeah, Trish loved to blast and dance by herself to in our apartment all of the time … oh yes, 'Back at One'. It calmed him and his breathing after a few minutes. How I hoped that he would be back to his annoying and mischievous self soon.

Satisfied that Holmes and I would be supervised by Watson (and maybe a bit exhausted from the excitement as well) Mrs. Hudson slipped out after I got Holmes calmed down. Watson himself just sat there and quietly watched over us. It took over two hours for Holmes to finally accept that I wasn't going anywhere. Still all he did at that point was loosen his hold on me slightly. I think that he enjoyed the feeling of holding me without anyone spouting about etiquette as much as I was, so he rested his weight fully against me and dosed off in my arms. I promised myself that I would never forget that night for as long as I lived.

When Holmes' breathing became steady and regular, I knew he had fallen asleep once again. This time I hoped that my touch and love would bring him good dreams as I kissed the back of his neck. I didn't want to lay him down yet, so I sat there and continued to rock him softly. By then I had stopped humming, but the song continued to play in my mind. Finally Holmes' grasp loosened to the point where his hands released me completely. I was mildly disappointed at the loss, but I knew in my heart that he had reached another milestone that night – we both had.

Watson helped me rest Holmes back gently onto the bed, but the rest he let me do. I pulled the blankets up a bit, only to find that Holmes' breathing had changed slightly and there was the tiniest bit of a smirk on his face. "You can't fake that good, Sherlock."

Caught, he opened his eyes a little and, for a moment, it looked like my sweet Holmes was back. I knew then that the monster had at last been vanquished. Now ahead of us was healing and rebuilding his defenses against that monster we just knocked out of his body and soul. "Still haven't changed your mind about it?" He didn't have to explain; I knew all too well he was talking about our engagement. "Actually that's what I was dreaming about when I found out that you needed me."

He sighed hard at that. To wake me out of sleep he obviously saw I needed must have hurt him deeply. "Forgive the interruption."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. He still put me above himself – even in illness. "I think that I would prefer reality to dreams myself. How do you feel?"

"Different … clean … broken." That last one worried me. Granted he hated displaying weakness in himself. And I knew that it was worse when I was the one witnessing the weakness. And yes, this was the hardest thing that he had done in the time that I had known him (next to proposing to me that is). But, that last word hurt me deep. "Different is to be expected. Clean is a good sign. And as for broken, well I will just have to help you fix that."

I think that my words must have had an impact because in that moment the man I loved with all I was worth came back to life. His eyes opened steely with determination, and his grin told me he was rebounding. It was as if he had been pulled from a usual black mood and put on a hard case. It had taken nearly a month, but Holmes was back! Glancing over, I was glad to see that I wasn't the only one witnessing Holmes being reborn. Watson smiled brightly as he sat there quietly watching us, his body shaking with pint-up mirth. Holmes too saw it. "Well Watson, how about giving the medical approval on my recovery and we can then …"

My hand on his chest and forced (mind you I mean **VERY** forced) hard look told Holmes I wasn't completely playing. "First you rest. It's still late at night, so we can't go off celebrating anything just yet. And second, I want you at full strength before you go out and about – even on a case. Am I fully understood?"

That did it for Watson. He burst out in laughter right along with Holmes. "Nona is already taken well to being a wife, eh Holmes?"

Holmes snapped his attention from me to Watson in surprise. I couldn't help but smirk at it. Brushing his bangs from his eyes, I revealed the secret to my future husband. "He and Mrs. Hudson were in the hallway coming to check on us at the time." Holmes shook his head in disbelief. "And here I thought we would be able to keep it secret for a while. How soon before the world hears of it, my Boswell?"

"Not from my pen, Holmes." Watson vowed looking from Holmes to me. Somehow I just understood. I didn't really remember anything but the idea of why Watson wouldn't tell the world about me. "I'm not from this time, am I? That's why you have written me out of every adventure so far, Watson? Because I guess in my true time I read them, and you don't want me to have knowledge of the fact that I'm going to come back here?"

Both Holmes and Watson smiled at me, but the former of the two's was tinted with worry and sadness. I had my fill of his fears. It was time to put them to rest once and for all. "Sherlock Holmes, get this into your thick skull. **I AM NOT GOING BACK TO MY OLD TIME!** Even if I get the chance and everyone I had ever known pleaded for me to return, I'd tell them that I'm happy here, and that this is my home now. That I'm staying with the guy I'm going to marry, and that's it." I saw the tears well up in Holmes' eyes just before I laid down in his embrace. He had a rough time in his life; I understood that thanks to a talk I had often with his dad over the months I had visited Oakstaff Manor. But all of this worrying that I would ever want to leave him was driving me nuts!

Holmes sat me up a little and the look in his eyes was so gentle. The color went from steel to a soft dove gray, and the smile on his face told me that he was at peace at last. "Understood, my Nona."

**

**_Sherlock_** –

When Nona said those words with such conviction and steel in her voice, I knew that she was settled in her decision. Yet, I still worried about the day when she would remember our past and her own now that I remembered what I shouted at her to make her flee to my childhood home. Would she wish she had never come to live with Watson and myself? And would she ever forgive me for those appalling things I said to her during our argument that sent her to North Riding? But that was for another time. Now I was pleased that she had accepted my proposal. Seeing as her family was not alive yet – none that would count in this matter in any case – I had no male family member of hers to ask permission of first. All that mattered was Nona's decision, and she just clearly told me her choice in the matter.

In no time I had her back in my arms and she dosed off to sleep. I hated the idea of waking her again – my outburst was enough interruption of her sleep for one night – but she could hardly sleep in my arms the way she laid, as she had previously been sitting and her lower body was still twisted due to that. Faithful Watson came through as he always did. Without a word, he came over and somehow maneuvered Nona so that she was nestled fully on the bed next to me. Obviously feeling more comfortable, Nona drifted off into a deeper sleep as I held her close. Then Watson went a step further by producing a blanket from out of my vision with which to cover her. He covered his lips with a finger, signaling to me that thanks were not necessary at all.

Remembering that his wedding would shortly come about, I decided to come up with some gift that would show him a sum of my eternal gratitude. Obviously he and the future Mrs. Watson would need a place of their own. Rooming with Nona and I in Baker Street was considerably out of the question, especially after Nona and I marry. After all the nights would be anything but peaceful – that is given the hot looks and kisses my ravishing fiancée has been giving me (God, I am starting to sound like the man's writings!). However, finding decent accommodations on their combined budget would not be easily done, if it were at all possible. And decent was less than the old chap deserved for all he had done over the years, and for the grace his bride has showed me by waiting. If it weren't for him standing up to me and telling me later where to find my sweet Nona … no, I would not think about what could have been. She was alive, in my arms, and would shortly be my wife.

I had never before thought about marrying. Though I am not as cold hearted as Watson would paint me in his tales. I begged him to cast me in that light when he'd write them for my safety (once I was told about the stories that is) – to keep marriage-minded women away. I conveniently neglected to guard myself from Nona. That vivacious and unpredictable Nona E. Brown. The one who turned my world upside down and made me whole again.

I slowly drifted off to sleep as well, thanks to the peace holding her in my arms brought. As I slid into dreams, I remember Watson quietly arguing with our landlady. Dear Mrs. Hudson was a strict woman of the age, but this was a situation that the Victorian sense of propriety did not take into consideration.

**

**_Watson_** –

Nona looked so peaceful in Holmes' arms that I hadn't the heart to wake her. One look on Holmes' face told me that he felt the same. It took a little arranging, but soon I had her lying next to Holmes on the bed. It didn't look exactly proper, however I wasn't going to wake Nona for what others might say if they were walk into the room. I could see that again Holmes' silently agreed with me. Finally I took the blanket I had used to cover myself and tucked it over her body. That was proper enough, each under their own blanket.

Worried that it would wake Nona I signaled Holmes to remain silent before he could say a word. I saw that he too didn't want to wake her. Not to mention he didn't want to let her go. We had done this before when she had dosed off next to him. And had always woke her before Mrs. Hudson caught us in the act. But then Mrs. Hudson walked in only moments after Nona had drifted off to a deep sleep and Holmes had slowly joined her.

I was able to keep her voice down with a look and a hand gesture, but I could tell from her tone that she did not like what she was seeing. "Dr. Watson, Nona-bird has no business in his bed."

"Mrs. Hudson, how much sleep has Nona had in the past few days?" Blunt and to the point I know, but I was not going to let her win this argument.

After thinking to herself a few moments she looked defeated. "Only a little, but still …"

"Still nothing. Nona and Holmes are both calm and resting at last, no one can see into his room, and there is a blanket separating them. It is only for tonight." I hoped that she would see my point.

In her usual overwhelmed manner she went back to bed muttering how no one had better find out about this for all our sakes. I shook my head as I shut the door. The least I could do for my friends was chaperone them for propriety's sake. I sat there and watched them sleep; grateful for the nap I took earlier that afternoon.

**

The next morning Holmes roused me out of an unintended sleep. He had risen, washed, and dressed on his own. Before me was the Holmes of old. "Feeling better now, Watson?"

"Holmes?" He raised a finger to his lips and then indicated over his shoulder to his bed. Nona was still sleeping soundly, so I lowered my voice slightly. "Should you be up? After all …"

"I am fine Watson, except for being a little famished. Shall we have some breakfast while Nona catches up on her missed beauty sleep?" Holmes was cheerful and clearly recovering nicely. As we left his room his next words startled me. "And thank you for defending Nona and myself, Watson."

"You're welcome … Holmes."

**

**_Nona_** –

I woke up completely refreshed that morning … and alone … in Holmes' bed?! Whoa. And then I remembered the previous night. Had it been a wonderful dream? But then how did I get into Holmes' bed? Maybe he hadn't asked me to marry him. That made me way too miserable for the morning.

I arranged my robe and tried to sneak downstairs to my room, only to be caught by Mrs. Hudson on the stairs as she was going up with breakfast. I blushed hotly at the somber look on her face. "Last night will not be discussed or repeated before your wedding, understood Nona?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. I'll be up soon, I just have to change." She nodded and continued towards the sitting room. Why did I feel like I had just disappointed a favorite aunt or my grandmother? At least my engagement was reassured without having to say a word to my now fiancé. Sherlock Holmes was my fiancé! Well guess that meant I was closer than a friend, and Mary uses Watson's given name after all. Why not the same with Holmes … no, Sherlock and myself?

As fast as I could I cleaned up and dressed and rushed up the stairs. Watson and my fiancé were already sitting at the table. I couldn't help but smile at Sherlock, and was glad when he gave me one back. He and Watson stood when I came in, as they always did, and sat down as I did. "Feeling better now, Sherlock?"

It was amusing, the look he gave me when I used his given name. A cross of shock and adore, one I might add that was very appealing to this woman in particular. It was good to see his teasing wink as Watson chuckled heartily at us. And then I saw it beside his hand, my face dropped at the sight of that wretched case. He saw my eyes and what I was looking at. "It is not what you think … Mrs. Holmes-to-be. I wanted you to be sure I had rid our home of this." He set the Moroccan case in my hand. "I won't be needing it any longer." 

Of course he wouldn't, but I wasn't about to throw it out. First someone else might find it and be led towards addiction without anyone to help them get clean. And, this was part of my fiancé's past. It made him what he now was. So, I decided to pack it away in my trunk. And I think he knew I would, at least the look in his eyes said that.

I couldn't fight off my tears at first, but I smiled at him. "I wouldn't doubt you on this, Sherlock. Now you have more reasons not to use this than you had before." I took hold of his hand and felt something in it. The mischievous look on his face made him look like a fully-grown Virgil. With a tender squeeze, he left whatever it was in my hand.

Looking in my palm I gasp in shock. It was a ring … a beautiful yellow gold ring! On either side of the ring where the stones were secured were swirls cut out in the metal to hold the jewels in place. The middle of the ring was a medium garnet stone (as Sherlock explained to me later) that had a diamond on each side – both only slightly smaller than the garnet. He looked nervous as I looked at him with a questioning look. "It belonged to my mother. Mycroft, it seemed, asked Watson and Mrs. Hudson to not tell us that he was here and in the hall listening to our conversation. He showed up to visit this morning, delivering it. He had gone to North Riding last night by special after leaving here to update the family on my health, and to announce our engagement. Father and Sherrinford both insisted that he bring me the ring for you to wear … if you still want that."

I held the ring back to him on my right hand while extending my left hand out to him with the brightest smile I could remembered ever wearing in my life (what I could remember of it that is). Sherlock needed no further prompting. He took his mother's engagement ring and slid it on my left ring finger, making us properly engaged. 

Watson was smirking. "May I crow now rather than later?"

"Watson!" I snapped out with a laugh, while Sherlock beamed at me.

**

Two weeks later – on October 10th – Watson and Mary were married in a private civil ceremony. Sherlock and I witnessed it as best man and maid of honor, but we were also daydreaming about our own upcoming wedding as well. I swear that I saw him mouthing Watson's words when the vows were made! What else could I do but given him the same vows back in my turn. He grinned as he watched my lips. Neither of us could wait until it was our turn. We might have had a double wedding with Watson and Mary, but Sherlock wanted to wait for me to regain the memories I had lost. For some odd reason that was so dearly important to him. Besides, this was our company's other couple's day.

Even if it was the obvious choice, the four of us celebrated at Simpson's. We had celebrated nearly every case we closed there, so why not so special a day as this? Sherlock asked me to go in with him on his idea for the wedding gift. He had little experience in home shopping (though I wasn't very helpful), and didn't want to do it alone. Besides, it gave us some valuable time on our own – even if we had to remain proper (one of the main drawbacks of living in this era). The look on Watson's face when he read over the papers was precious! Forget the concept of a Kodak moment – it was years before **and** beyond that!

"Holmes … Nona … I … I don't know what to say." He finally sputtered out in disbelief.

Sherlock had a good hold of my hand under the table, and squeezed it gently in his excitement. "Nothing need be said, Watson. After all you have done for Nona, and especially for myself personally … that is but a small fraction of the debt we owe you."

"After all, if you hadn't just happen to be walking home that night, who knows where I would have been or what would've happen to me. Imagine the stories we have been through that would have been dramatically different." I added on.

Mary smiled. "I'm glad that life has happen as it has, Nona. Not the part about your amnesia, of course. But, who knows what might have happened – you could have been critical to Watson and I coming to this day."

I shook my head. Somehow I doubted that idea. "I think the two of you would have come about this on your own. I had little to do with your case, Mary, and you two had one another at first sight."

Once we were through with dinner, we escorted the happy couple to Charing Cross and waved them goodbye and best of luck. Sherlock was quiet the entire way home and the look on his face told me that he was deep in thought, but I was grateful that he held my hand until we were in front of 221b. 

**

Eleven days more passed. The twenty-first. Sherlock had promised a special night just for us. I woke feeling more giddy than if it had been Christmas Day! I washed and dressed quickly before leaving my room just in time to see Sherlock come down the stairs ready to leave. "Leaving before breakfast, Sherlock? You are obviously going to need your energy as rushed as you are." I admonished like a good wife should. Oh, I was so ready for this! 

"A few last details I have to attend to, my Nona. Besides, you know that I rarely eat when I have things to attend to. We have a special visitor coming later. Can you get Watson's old room ready before lunch?" It looked like I wasn't the only one ready to try this marriage thing. Sherlock's eyes seemed to glitter in his happiness as he pulled me close for a morning embrace that had become a part of our daily routine since the start of our engagement. It was a happiness that infected me as well. "Sure. Will you be back before our mystery guest arrives?"

"I hope to be." Sherlock stopped a moment and looked into my eyes with a chuckle in his throat. "If you could only remember how we first met a year ago on this morning – right about now, I imagine."

An image came back to me as if it had happened just the previous day. I smiled up at him coolly, which made him visibly nervous. "I'll never tell that you squeaked, **_and_** don't knock before charging into the bathroom."

That had him wide-eyed stunned. "You remember, Nona?" When I nodded he picked me up in his happiness and twirled us about. I couldn't help laughing, he was holding me and my memories were returning yet again! "You remember! That makes today all the better." 

Mrs. Hudson came out with a sour look on her face to investigate the racket Sherlock and I were making. "What is going on you two?" 

"I have another memory back! And I remember something else … I made you faint with something I brought me … from my true time. My CD player … Watson called it a music hall in his hand I think, or something like that." Sherlock held me close in his joy before allowing Mrs. Hudson to hug me in her happiness as well. 

I wasn't the only one admonish Sherlock for skipping breakfast. Finally, with a chuckle in all of our throats, he promised to be home for lunch. Mrs. Hudson accepted it, but it was obvious that our landlady didn't like it one bit. Once he was gone, she and I ate breakfast in the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson had finally accepted that I had slept in Sherlock's bed for one night, and had even put it behind her, but she still disliked that it had happened at all. 

After we ate, she and I rushed about getting the place ready for our visitor. As asked, I got Watson's old room ready first, while Mrs. Hudson fiddled around downstairs. Then I got the dishes washed, while Mrs. Hudson did the dusting. We quickly came together to get lunch started about ten. At eleven-forty, we were finally pleased by the appearance of the house. Ten minutes later, a knocking came at the front door. To my shock, it was Sir Siger! "Sir Siger! What a wonderful surprise!" 

"Child, I believe that ring entitles you to the title I have already asked you to call me." His smile was there and gone in the fraction of a second, but it shimmered in his brown eyes. He took my left hand in his and tenderly rubbed the stones. Inviting him further in, I shut the door, happy that he was there. 

Once I introduced him to Mrs. Hudson, the two of us went up to the sitting room. He sat in Sherlock's usual chair, and I sat on the sofa. "It will just take me a little time to get used to it, Father. But tell me what brings you to Town?" 

"Other than checking on my youngest son and visiting with my future daughter?" That got me to blush as I suspected was his plan given the twinkle I saw in his eyes because of it. "I was invited by Sherlock." 

That surprised me. Why hadn't Sherlock simply told me that his father was coming? Sir Siger read my face and grinned. "It is a part of your surprise for this evening. After all, the two of you will need an escort, and seeing that the good Doctor and his new wife are still on their honeymoon, who better than myself?" 

My shoulders shook slightly with the laughter I held in me. The door downstairs slammed and the hurried steps on the stairs told me that Sherlock was back. Before he even made it to the door I called out with a sneaky smile on my face, "You're running late, Sherlock." 

Sir Siger and I both chuckled when the rushed steps stopped outside the door. Finally it opened to reveal my fiancé. "I apologize for not meeting you at the station as we had planned, Father. When I got there one of my younger associates informed me that you had arrived early and left in a cab for Baker Street." 

"I wanted a little time with my future daughter, and to keep you on your toes as it were. Besides, I believe that you had some business to take care of." The knowing smiles they shared with one another were driving me crazy! "You are both in on tonight, am I correct?"

Sherlock gave me a parody of an innocent look, meaning I was right. "Why my dear Nona, I haven't the faintest clue as to what you mean. Do you, Father?" 

Like father, like son! In fact, I wasn't sure which one looked the more pathetic in his bid for innocence. Though Sir Siger's look had a highlight of perverse joy in it. "Not in the least, Sherlock." 

"Why do I bother? Neither of you are going to tell me a thing about tonight." I finally just shook my head. Sherlock laid a hand on my shoulder and smiled genuinely at me. "Glad to see you understand, my dear. Now, I believe that is Mrs. Hudson with lunch. Then Father and I have some things we have to meet with Mycroft about, so you have the entire day to ready yourself for tonight." 

Right on cue, Mrs. Hudson came in with lunch. It was much more pleasant than I believed any other meal us three had shared before was. I just wish I could remember why. Sir Siger told me about the trouble Sherlock got into in three different countries as their family traveled through Europe. It seemed that he was surprised the French government had ever called on Sherlock because of something to do with water and a high ranking government official – a tale that I would never tell, except maybe our hoped for children … someday that is. But, all too soon lunch was over. The men left a kiss on my either cheek, and went off to see Mycroft.

Sherlock had requested I wear the gown that jogged one of my early memories back. Somehow I was excited to even think of it on my body again. Once they were gone I rushed off to run a few errands for Mrs. Hudson. I got back an hour later and slid into a good bath. Mrs. Hudson made me soak for an hour and a half before she let me out of the tub. But I will admit that it felt good to just soak in the warm water and daydream.

I began to think about the upcoming wedding. It was custom for the bride's family to pay for everything. I knew that I had no family in England, and what family I had in America wouldn't have even been born yet. Knowing Sherlock, he had it planned that he would cover the entire wedding himself. I felt awful about that idea. Sherlock and Watson had given me so much, how could I ask him to pay for our wedding? And if Sir Siger or anyone else in our family were to cover the bill it would be worse. Mrs. Hudson, I knew, would love to pay as if I were her daughter, but that would be asking too much from that sweet and generous woman. Watson and Mary just got married themselves, I refused to even think of them paying for it. Large weddings, like the one Sherlock was expected to have as the son of a squire, were very expensive. But I wouldn't even be able to afford the small wedding that Watson and Mary had. I was near penniless and had no dowry or family, and here I was marrying the son of a knighted Squire. I felt like such a liability. 

A knocking on the door brought me out of my heartbreaking thoughts. It was Mrs. Hudson. "Nona-bird? Are you ready?"

"Almost." I called out half-heartedly. My spirits had crashed hard. I guess that my voice must have worried her, for the woman swept into the room and knelt by the tub worriedly. "What's wrong, my bird?"

I explained what was on my mind and how I felt. It seemed so hopeless. Mrs. Hudson just shook her head. "Birdie child, that shouldn't be upsetting you today. Come downstairs and I'll tell you a story while we get you ready. Come now, my dear. You wouldn't want to keep Mr. Holmes and his father waiting now, would you?" I shook my head and she left. I still felt so bad.

After taking my time drying, I wrapped my robe around me and grabbed my clothes as I hurried down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was already set to help me get ready. Suddenly, everything felt so out of place for me. Sherlock and Watson or their friends and family gave a large portion of what little I owned to me. I felt more like a leech than ever before.

She combed out my hair, and plainly saw the sorrow on my face. "My dear, we all at times need others to take care of us. Sometimes it is physically, other times emotionally, and, like your future wedding, financially. Would you believe I was once in your shoes in a way?"

I looked up at her in shock. Mrs. Hudson chuckled. "Yes, dear. Long ago I was thrown out onto the streets by my stepfather just hours after my poor, sweet mother died. I was chased by some drunk men for what felt like forever." That hit home hard. "I ran into a man I feared was one of those chasing me, but he wasn't. He took out a gun and frightened the real pursuers away." Whoa, too strange for fiction. That meant it had to be the truth. "That was a young man by the name of Henry James Paul Hudson."

I had to chuckle at that. "The only difference between your story and mine is I'm not marrying my rescuer." 

Mrs. Hudson chuckled hard. "Oh, you're right, Nona-bird. But what I'm trying to explain is, I had nothing but the tattered dress I wore that night. His parents, unlike Mr. Holmes', were against our match. But my sweet Henry chose me over his family. He swore that he never regretted it for a moment. He paid for everything. It was more than I dared to dream. In the church, rather than a civil ceremony. He paid for my gown, the flowers, and the minister … oh he paid for everything. And you know what, he told me that all of it he owed me." 

I was stunned. "What did he mean by that, Mrs. Hudson?" 

"Henry was on his way to end his life with that very same gun he used to rescue me when I ran into him. He had been rejected by the woman he had thought at the time was his only love, and didn't want to live without her. But then, I slammed into his life. He said that the fear he saw in my eyes was the eyes that he swore he had seen in his dreams. That was why he gave me anything my heart desired and so much more. He told me that he could never pay me back enough for the gift of his life with me, and later the gift of our son." Mrs. Hudson had tears in her eyes as she did up my hair in a beautiful bun.

I too had tears in my eyes. "Still …" But Mrs. Hudson wasn't anywhere near done. "There is no argument, Nona-bird. Who convinced Mr. Holmes to give up the drugs that would have one day destroyed him?"

"I did."

"And, who stood with him – even going against propriety to sleep with him in his bed – until he was well again? Probably more times than I suspect." Mrs. Hudson wasn't ready to back down.

That made me blush slightly and chuckle. If she only knew how many times I had already slept in Sherlock's arms in his bed. "I did."

Mrs. Hudson smiled on me. "And who was it that got him to go home, helped save his brother and family, save his father, and change how he views women?"

I had to chuckle more at that. "I did. I love him so much, Mrs. Hudson."

She sighed as she finished my hair. "That, my beautiful Birdie, is all that should matter. He didn't ask you to marry him for money. He did it because Mr. Holmes loves you for you. And his family respects that obviously because of that precious ring. Are you going to let money leave you sad, Nona-bird?" 

I smiled as she did up my face. "Not tonight. Tonight is for celebrating that I am here. Thanks, Mrs. Hudson." 

"Thank you for listening to my story, Nona-bird. Now for the rest." 

The corset went on easier this time, or so Mrs. Hudson told me. And then we slid on that dress and she did up the little buttons on my back. I felt so beautiful. And looking at the growing night through my window, I could see that we finished just in time. A knock on my door confirmed that assumption. It was my fiancé and true love, Sherlock Holmes. The look in his eyes told me how much I meant to him. Mrs. Hudson had been right, this man loved me for myself and nothing else. His words were genuine Holmes, though. "I see I am not interrupting. Ready for your first anniversary, Nona?" I nodded. Then Sherlock presented me with a large square black case. "And a happy occasion I intend to make it." 

Opening it, I found a garnet and diamond necklace! It was hard to fight off the tears this brought out of me. Sherlock took it out of the case and I instinctively turned so my back was facing him. He hooked the necklace on me and brushed his finger down my neck and shoulders. "This should match your ring." 

I just smiled. I didn't know what to say. Me. Nona Brown. The most outspoken woman in the nineteenth century! And I was absolutely speechless! But my eyes told Sherlock all that was in my heart, as I turned to look up in his shimmering gray eyes. He knew just how much I loved him. His eyes too showed me how much he loved me.

A throat clearing broke us out of our devotion for one another. Sir Siger too held a black box; only this one was long and thin. "Happy anniversary, my soon-to-be lawful daughter. To make it a set." 

Inside was a bracelet of diamonds and garnet. He put it on my wrist and kissed my cheek before placing my hand on his arm. Sherlock too kissed my cheek and took claim of my free hand. He smiled back at Mrs. Hudson. "Don't wait up for us, Mrs. Hudson. You know why, of course." 

Mrs. Hudson smiled and chuckled. She was in on the secret too? Did everyone know but me? I couldn't ask, because both Holmeses dragged me out the door. 

First we went to Simpson's for dinner. And then we went dancing. Sir Siger sat there watching Sherlock and me as we turned and twist on the dance floor. He refused to get on the dance floor with me because of his hip. Before we were rescued, he had been beaten badly and his hip was permanently damaged for it. He asked Sherlock and I to dance one dance for him and his lost wife. Neither of us was against that. Ironically Sherlock whispered that the song the band started to play was a favorite of his mother's. Looking over at Father I could see the tears in his eyes, but before I could say a word Sherlock was again whispering in my ear. "Father would be hurt if we were to stop before the piece was finished, Nona dear." How could I hurt that generous man?

Then we were swept off to the station where a single car train was waiting! "Sherlock? I believe you know something about that train over there. Would you mind explaining to me exactly what that is, and why it is there?" 

"That is a special, Nona. Hmm, I believe that it is waiting for us." His eyes were positively glowing with joy. I found one hitch in his plan. "Um, Sherlock. No bags." Just as I stated it, I noticed Sherlock and my bags were being loaded onto the train. It was clear what Sherlock had meant when he said that Mrs. Hudson knew why she wasn't to wait up for us. "Okay, that was why you had me fix up Watson's room – so Mrs. Hudson could pack up my bag without my catching her. Well then, where are we sneaking off to, as if I really have to ask?" 

"Well, Nona, if our surprise is out of the bag, why don't you tell the two of us?" Sir Siger asked with a smirk on his face. I liked it better than when he was wearing tears of grief in his eyes.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Okay. I believe that we are heading for North Riding for an obviously short holiday, seeing as there is only one bag each for Sherlock and myself." 

Sherlock's grin got brighter. "So very close, but you have yet to deduce it all, my dear Nona." After that he and his father got me into conversations about everything and anything other than what lay ahead of us. I could see where Sherlock had picked that talent up. It was nice to be in that train car with both men. But, all too soon we were at the station at North Riding and getting out. 

At the other end of the platform was a small form I knew in a heartbeat – Virgil. "Grandfather, Aunt Nona, Uncle Sherlock!" He raced up and first hugged tight to my skirt, then hugged his uncle's leg. I was in shock … had he really called me his 'aunt'? "Happy anniversary, Aunt Nona!" Yeah, looked like he did.

"Thank you, Virgil. I'm so happy to see you." And I really was. I had missed visiting the previous month because of a case Holmes and I were on – the first without Watson. But, his naming me his 'aunt' made my special day all the more exceptional. "Though something tells me that this isn't the last of the surprises. Am I right, Sherlock?" 

All he would do was give me a grin that mirrored the one on the face of the little boy who grabbed a tight hold of my hand. We walked down to the carriage to find Mr. St. Clair waiting on us. "Welcome back and happy anniversary, Miss Brown, Master Sherlock." He took my bag and tied it on the back while Sherlock did the same with his own. Afterwards Sherlock helped me, and then his father and Virgil into the carriage before climbing in himself. Mr. St. Clair whipped the horses into a run. I almost felt like Cinderella going off to the ball. If I had only known then how right I was with that thought.

We made it to Oakstaff in record time, and I was rushed up to my usual room. Holly was in there with a sweet smile on her face. "Welcome back, Nona. Oh hurry, we have a very little time. Let's freshen you up a bit." 

"What is going on, Holly?" I was slowly becoming edgy. A mystery is one thing, but this was out past any mystery I had ever been involved in and beginning to get on my nerves fast. Holly shook her head and chuckled. "It's a secret. Now, come on and sit down so I work my magic once again." 

In a few minutes Holly had my hair fixed back nice and had touched up my make up. She even insisted I put on her anniversary gift – a new red dress she had ordered based on the measurements from the last time she had a dress made for me. It was off the shoulder and dipped daringly low – slightly lower than the green dress. Instead of velvet, this was made of silk and lace. It had a small train, beads, and glass jewels shimmering everywhere. I felt like royalty in it. "Holly, it's beautiful!"

"No, you are beautiful, Nona. Now, on with the night; I promise that this is one trip here that you will never forget." 

We rushed off and met with Sherlock and the rest by the second floor ballroom entrance. Let's say that the look on his face told me Sherlock was thanking all of creation I agreed to marry him. I smiled as he took my hand and rest his lips on it a little longer than was considered polite. We were in our own little world for a few minutes. That is until the sound of Sir Siger clearing his throat brought us back to reality. "We will meet you two downstairs **_promptly_**. Do not make me send one of your brothers up here, Sherlock." His voice was full of warning, while his eyes were filled with joy, pride, loneliness, and the slightest ting of regret. If I only knew why he looked that way. I answered for Sherlock. "We understand, Father. We promise to behave ourselves. Right, Sherlock?" 

It had been the first time I had ever called him by his given name in front of his family. Sherlock grinned while the others stood there in shock. I'd bet he was hoping for it, while the family didn't see it coming. Sherlock winked at me. "Of course, the longer we must wait …" 

"Sherlock, don't act as if you are fooling any of us. You would do nothing that could cause Nona any harm. Still, if it weren't that I am waiting for my surprise for Nona to arrive, I would be standing here keeping an eye on you two." Mycroft chuckled. 

I glared hard at him for that. The look must have been comical, because the family all chuckled at it, or was it the scene itself?  I was never sure because the group left us with one of the maids standing nearby to supervise us. Only then did I take a good look at my Sherlock. He too had freshened up, and oddly looked like a child waiting on Santa Claus to appear. He was looking me over as well, and obviously liked what he saw. "Holly has a talent for gift giving it would seem. You look stunning, my Nona." Again his kissed my hand, and I felt my heart race with joy. But, then he sent it into overdrive. "I am certainly glad you are walking into the room on my arm rather than on your own. No telling what man might snatch you from me." 

I blushed hotly at that. "I don't think that there is a man living, dead, or yet to be born that could rip me from your arm, Sherlock." I was glad of the grin that little comment caused on Sherlock's face. I loved him, and that told him just how much – as if I hadn't told him long before as well as time and again since the first time. 

But, before we could go any further, the butler introduced us into the room together. "Announcing Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his fiancée, Miss Nona Brown." 

I took his arm as we walked down those stairs I vaguely remembered gliding down once before. My earlier feeling was right – it was a small ball! There were maybe thirty guests, most of whom I knew, so it was obvious that this was a party celebrating my arrival in this time. And judging from the startled looks on most of their faces, none had known previously of Sherlock's engagement to me. Most of the women wore veiled glares at me, while a few of the men were giving Holmes the same treatment. I fought off a giggle that was building in my throat. The sparkle in his eyes told me that Sherlock felt the same way. 

Many of the guests might have been jealous of us, but we were greeted with congratulations and good cheer nonetheless when we got to the bottom of the staircase. And then we were given a surprise. Watson and Mary! 

My rescuer and dear friend kissed my hand with a sneaky smile on his lips. "Happy anniversary, Nona. And it is about time that I say it, congratulations, Holmes." Sherlock and Watson shook hands while Mary hugged me warmly and whispered into my ear. "Honeymoon or otherwise, we wouldn't have missed this for the world. You look so beautiful." 

I fought off tears. This night couldn't get any better! At least that's what I thought at that moment. The music was cued, and Sherlock smiled at me. He knew he didn't have to, but he asked all the same. "My dear Nona, will you honor me with this dance?" 

"I would be elated, Sherlock." God, how that one sentence spoken from my mouth felt so good – my using his given name in public for the first time. It was a feeling I knew would never come back around to me the same way, but I was glad to have received it the first time. 

We spun around that floor as if no one else was in the room for a long time. It felt as if I had danced with him for my entire life, so natural that I felt as if I was dancing on clouds with him. And then a new song began and it drew out a forgotten memory. I couldn't help but smile, and that grabbed Sherlock's interest instantly. "What is it, my Nona?" 

I loved when he called me that! It made me feel like I belonged in his arms since birth. "I was thinking if I should ask Sherrinford if now, with us about to become family, if the name of his seamstress will remain a trade secret?" 

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and his smile lit up the room. And then I made him chuckle. "And he's the same man who was shocked by my wearing a **male** disguise." We had been wise enough to keep our voices low, but laughter was much harder to conceal than words. I did get us to both calm down though. "But, I must admit that you dance better with me than with him." 

Sherlock grinned wickedly. "You look more lovely in a dress than he does." At that I had had to laugh. It was too funny! How I loved this man. But he isn't the only one in our soon-to-be family who can jab. "If I only had a video camera then. No one would nor will ever believe me – not even our kids. 'Daddy was dancing with Uncle Sherrinford, who was wearing a tablecloth dress.' A video of that would be priceless evidence!" 

Sherlock seemingly understood the gravity of my words without asking a single question. "Nona, this video camera you spoke of … it captures events as they happen?" 

I grinned as he paled slightly. "Yes it does, Sherlock." 

It took all that I had not to chuckle as he swallowed slightly. "And the events can be replayed as they happened … later on? More than once?" His eyes were a stormy mass of clouds. But, I took it in stride. "Yes, my Sherlock." 

Then he looked mockingly hard at me. "Be grateful you did not have such a device at that particular moment. You might have lost me for all time holding that over my head." 

It was my turn to give the mock grim face. "I would have used it to get you easy." My look softened a bit. "Are you unhappy that I regained that memory?" 

His eyes looked so soft that I wanted to wrap them around me forever. "I want you to be whole, Nona. And that includes the memories I wish you would forget. Three memories in one twenty-four hour period, I'd say we are starting to make some real progress on your case, my dear." 

And then I remembered my pleading for him to unravel the mystery of my missing memories. It made me smile that he really was intent on doing just that. "Still, we have a long way to go before the case is complete. Yet, I have total faith in the world's greatest consulting detective. After all, he doesn't give up because a case is too hard. But what shall I give you for a reasonable payment once the case is solved?" 

I will never forget what he said next. It is still the most touching thing he said to me in our lives. "My fees are fixed save when I dismiss them all together. However, I believe that you have already paid me handsomely, Miss Brown. More so than all the royalty of this planet together could." I was understandably ignorant of what he meant. Sherlock smiled on me and brushed his thumb across my cheek. "You agreed to become my wife. Now I have someone who will never let my life become dull or subdued. The one woman who complements and contrasts me in ways that will keep us at one another for years to come."

If Mycroft hadn't come to us at that moment, I would have broken down into tears of happiness right there on the dance floor. He had a sparkle in his eyes and his voice was so low that I could barely hear him. "It is finally time for my anniversary gift to you, Nona. You are being given a private audience with the Queen right here at Oakstaff."

What was it with this family and unending surprises? First Father escorts Sherlock and I around, and gives me a beautiful bracelet to go with the engagement ring that he and his eldest son insisted on my wearing. Sherlock proposes, gets me a gorgeous necklace, and brings me here for a ball. Sherrinford and Holly buy me a dress for tonight, gives me a ball to celebrate my anniversary and announce my engagement to Sherlock. Now I'm going to meet the Queen? Wow! What was I getting myself into by marrying into this surprise filled family?

Without a word, the three of us left the ball and went to the library. I was so nervous. The Queen was one of the few fixed memories I had after I came to with amnesia. I had been teasing when I bantered about never meeting a Queen. Never in a million years did I expect Mycroft was serious when he had said, "We will just have to see what we can do about that." 

Once we were outside of the doors of the library, he had us wait while he announced us. I looked at Sherlock, who looked positively annoyed. "What's wrong?" 

He looked over at me and sighed. "Mycroft only pulled this little surprise half for you. He has been plaguing me for sometime now that the Queen wished to speak with me about a couple of trifling cases. Now he not only has the perfect gift for you, but does his duty to the Queen as well." 

My poor love. He only did his work for the stimulation itself, not the glory. A vague thought rant into my mind. "Is it about a knighting?" I felt a funny sense, like I was changing something. 

Sherlock looked at me, shocked. "Did Mycroft talk to you about it?" 

I shook my head. "No, I just remember that one of the stories that was circulated in my time about you was that you turned down being knighted on more than one occasion. Supposedly because of one of your enemies having received that honor first, or something like that." It didn't want to bring up that it was someone man named James, because the rest I just couldn't remember. I was really starting to hate having amnesia!

Sherlock shook his head at me. "It's not that. It's all of the pomp and display and expectations that come with being knighted, Nona love." Had he really just called me 'love'? "You know what kind of man I am. I do my work for the work. If people can afford it, I charge them. If they can't, I toss aside the idea of paying all together for the sake of the challenge. The only reason I accepted Watson chronicling the cases we shared was because of the respect the fame he brought us gave and the attention to certain aspects as you, I hope someday, will remember in Sherrinford's case about the crime scene. I don't want the rest of it." 

I nodded and looked up at him, seeing how upset this made him. "Look, I'll go in alone if you want. I can come up with some explanation. I'm just a little nervous about meeting her, but I should be able to do fine." 

Sherlock rubbed my back and sighed. "No, Nona. I can face the Queen, for your sweet sake. Besides, I prefer the Queen to the hoard of chattering quixotic females back in the ballroom." At that moment the doors opened. I felt my pulse race faster than ever before in a split second. This was really happening! 

"Your Majesty, my I present my brother, Sherlock, and his fiancée, Miss Nona Brown." Mycroft sounded so proud at that moment. 

My hand clamped hard on Sherlock's arm. I was so scared. What if I did something incredibly stupid right in front of the Queen? Sherlock and Mycroft would never be able to live it down! In answer, Sherlock rested his hand gently on top of my tense one. He believed in me. Mycroft grinned and winked at me as we passed by, and I didn't understand then, but he mouthed out 'thank you'. Sherlock's deduction had been right; Mycroft went for two birds with one request – Sherlock and I. 

The sight before me was a doting grandmother dressed in black with a white lace headdress holding her beloved granddaughter close. She looked as nervous as I felt. That gave me some comfort – that I wasn't alone in my uneasy state. She had the presence about her, like she was not some Queen, but just an elderly woman – though I could feel she could be stern if the occasion called for it. She finally smiled over at me. "Hello, my dear. I say, you are prettier than any of the glowing reports Mr. Holmes has given me over these past weeks. And taller than I expected too; are you an average height for a young woman your age in the future?" 

That stunned me. I shot a glance at Mycroft for telling before answering. "Yes, Your Majesty." 

"Oh child, we're not having court. Here we are but friends visiting. Come and sit, the both of you." She grinned as her granddaughter ran off to play with a doll not far from us. I couldn't help but smile at that. "I am grateful to you for helping me gain an audience with your celebrated fiancé. It had been disconcerting, Mr. Holmes, that you have avoided my past request." 

"If it pleases Your Majesty, I only do my work for the challenge, not for fame." Sherlock gently spoke. Obviously this was one woman that, outside of Holly and myself, he respected without question. 

The Queen smiled at this. "I, too, never enjoy the pomp and circumstance of my position, Mr. Holmes. Yet, unlike yourself, I am forced into it day after day." Then she smiled over at me. "My dear, you look so anxious." 

I took a breath to steady myself – caught screwing up already! "I've never met royalty before, Your Majesty." 

She chuckled and smiled at me. "I would be willing to bet that you have never time traveled either before last year." She looked over at Mycroft. "I am correct that it has been a year?" When he agreed, she continued. "Is this era really all that much different from your own?" 

That took me off guard. How much do I tell her? "I can't really remember it all, but my heart tells me that many things do come along to change it drastically from this time, yes." 

The Queen nodded in understanding. "Yes, your amnesia. I do hope you will become whole soon, dear. It must be very distressing to not have memories that were once readily there." 

"Sometimes. But I have Sherlock, and our family and friends. If it weren't for all of them, I would hate to think of where I would be now." I smiled over at Holmes. I was being honest. He meant that much to me. And then I told her about when I first met Watson, shocking the poor woman. 

"It is such a pity those men had nothing but such need for alcohol to fill their minds and bodies. Please do not feel much malice towards them," she said.

I smiled, feeling much more at ease. "Actually, I should find them and thank them. If it weren't for them chasing me, I wouldn't have met Watson, Sherlock, or had the adventures I have lived through. I think that all I have is worth the temporary loss of a few memories." 

I think my sitting at ease helped the Queen do the same. She was so kind, but so shy at the same time. "I can see how you would think so. I truly would not like to imagine the world without you here. After all, without your telling Mycroft that you had never met royalty, I wouldn't be able to do what many other governments have done and have poorly said so to me in both letter and person. Mr. Holmes, would you please kneel before me here?" 

I glanced over at Sherlock and mouthed out 'sorry'. He simply held out his hand, showing me he'd accept his fate (though he did shoot a glare at Mycroft). After he knelt before her, the Queen simply touched both of his shoulders with her trembling right hand. No commands, no vows – a simple and irregular knighting for an uncommon man. She smiled on him so sweetly. "I hereby bestow upon you the title of First Knight of the Royal Avant-Garde Order. Arise, **_Sir_** William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

I could see by the look in his eyes that Sherlock was as stunned as the rest of us. He had not only been knighted in an unusual way, but he was the first to be knighted into an order that the Queen created just for him! The look of astonishment on Mycroft's face was priceless! One more shock probably would have sent him into a heart attack right where he stood! 

The Queen smiled brightly, as if that had been the highlight of her day. Sherlock rose, thanked the Queen, and sat numbly beside me again. I shared a secretive smirk with the Queen – just between girls. And then we began to talk some more. In that one hour, I found that Victoria (as she asked me to call her, as a favor to the Queen) was not your typical Victorian. If it came to it, I think she could survive in my true time – just a gut feeling I had. She asked Sherlock and I to come to tea after the holidays! Oh, that about sent me through the roof – to have not only met the Queen but have an appointment to visit her again. But all good things come to an end, and the Queen along with her young granddaughter was secreted back to London before any of the guests knew that she was there. Of the entire time span I could remember at that moment, that one night was the most thrilling – especially when the Queen pointed out to me that I would be a Lady after my marriage to Sherlock. It was my turn to be numb, and Sherlock to grin with the Queen. Lady Nona Holmes? That was too weird of a notion to think about at that point for me.

Hours later, the guest had left and Sherlock (chaperoned by Sherrinford) escorted me to my usual room. Once we were only in his brother's sights, Sherlock pulled me close and held me for the rest of our all too short walk. I was exhausted by the party, dancing, and the excitement I got from our visit from the Queen. Soon we were outside of my bedroom door. For a few moments all he did was hold me close right outside my door. It felt so good to be held by my love, but we knew that it was time to separate for the night. I grinned up at my love. "You know that you have always been a knight in my eyes?" 

Sherlock and I both grinned at Sherrinford's stunned expression. And then Sherlock rubbed both of my cheeks with his thumbs tenderly. "And you are a Queen in mine. Sleep well, dearest Nona." 

At first his kiss was brushing and light. Before he could pull away, I brushed my lips against his in return. Not to be equaled or bested, Sherlock gave me a more intimate kiss that I returned with the same intensity. Before we knew it, we were clinging to one another in a deep kiss. We didn't break it until Sherrinford chuckled heartily. "Am I going to have to soak you two down before bed with cold well water?" 

I smirked dirtily over at the man who would soon be my brother-in-law. "Sherrinford, by the time you go to throw any water at us it would turn into vapors long before it would touch either of us." 

Both men chuckled at that. I hadn't seen Sherlock so happy in as long as I had knew him. It felt so good that I was the one who made him feel that way. This time, he kissed my forehead. "Sleep well, my soon-to-be **_Lady_** Nona." 

"You too, my **_Sir_** Sherlock." I grinned as Sherrinford collapsed against the wall in his shock. I slid into my room before breaking down into tearful laughter. That had made life worth all I had suffered through! 

**

**_Sherlock_** – 

I would have never gone through that interesting ceremony if it had not been for Nona. Mycroft understood that I would have never let the woman meet the Queen un-escorted, but that I could rectify in the morning. As I walked away from the door to her room, my mind was wrapped by thoughts of the woman who had twisted and changed my world simply by being. I couldn't decide how life would have gone for me if she hadn't suddenly thrust into it. I only knew that I was a lucky man to have her in my life and wanting to marry me, especially with all that I had put her through. 

I explained about the Queen's visit and my knighthood as my brother and I walked towards my room. Sherrinford could hardly believe that he had hosted the Queen in his home and did not get to meet her. I chuckled and told him that she had been more interested in Nona than anything else – I was just a prize, seeing as I am Nona's permanent escort. He had a hearty laugh. I didn't blame him, however I already had plans for our dear middle brother come breakfast. 

**

The next morning Nona looked as if she had bathed in the morning's early rays of sunlight and dewdrops. At that moment I realized once again how I was beginning to sound far too much like Watson. Still, the depiction fit her perfectly at that sweet moment.

Perhaps there had to be a balance between brain and heart for my career to flourish as brightly as it had since Nona moved into Baker Street. I didn't want to find out ever if the theory was true by losing her. She sat next to me, and I swear she had a look in her eye like a hunter waiting for a trap to be sprung on its prey. Had my sweet angel set some kind tomfoolery of her own? I could hardly wait to see. 

Mycroft came in just after her and sat across from us. He looked over at the two of us warily, as if he had been warned that he was a marked man and Nona and myself were his assassins. If he only knew half of the truth, I doubt that he would have come to the table at all that particular morning. "Well, how are we this fine morning, Sir Sherlock and soon-to-be Lady Nona?" 

Watson and Mary regarded Nona and I in shock. One prank would not be enough for my dear brother for that. Nona's squeezing my hand showed me that she agreed. "Just fine after your pleasing the Queen twice over last night. You knew I would not allow Nona to go into an audience with the Queen without support from myself – ergo, you give Nona an honor and get the Queen off of your shoulders about her honoring me." 

"Interesting bit of deduction, Sherlock. Too bad that you will never be able to prove it." Mycroft grinned as his coffee arrived. He eyed the sugar bowl nervously. I shook my head as he tasted the first spoonful before, satisfied that it was indeed sugar, and dumped it and one more spoonful into the heated beverage. 

I had to admonish him. "What are you worried about, Mycroft? I think that salt in the sugar bowl is a bit old as far as stunts go." 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Watson explain my meaning to Mary who chuckled in delight. Mycroft just leered over at me across his cup before his first sip. "Oldies but goodies, I believe is a saying I have heard my dear near sister-in-law say in the past. And you have been known to use the same ploy on a person twice over before." 

I chuckled in surprise as he nearly spit out his first sip of coffee. Mycroft coughed hard. "Cayenne pepper!" 

Nona applying pressure to my hand told me that this had to be her doing without giving herself away. She couldn't hide the sarcasm in her sardonically sweet voice however. "Yes, but that would make it all too predictable. Oh, and I do remember it well everyone. Made me chuckle quite a bit this morning when I remembered it as I got ready in fact. Besides, none of us know with any assurances who the author of that little joke was. Unless you have found proof otherwise, Mycroft." 

I fought to hide my mirth at that. Oh, my sweet love came to avenge me for my previous night's suffering and she remembered more of her past. I had no doubt that it also had something to do with that near kiss she, at least, didn't seem to remember just yet. Even Father saw that the pepper was Nona's prank; given the steely gaze she gave Mycroft and the chuckle in her throat. As before, Mycroft's faulty coffee was replaced with a fresh cup and his breakfast set before him. He took the saltshaker and doused his eggs with it generously. A bite later, he set his fork down and glared hotly at me. Check and mate. "Sugar in the saltshaker, very mature." 

Squeezing Nona's hand, I fought off the urge to grin. "I haven't the slightest idea what you could mean, my dear Mycroft. My, but don't you have bad luck with utensils at the dinning table. Take care that your silverware doesn't decide to change form while you are eating. That could have messy results." 

Father cleared his throat and looked hard at the three of us, while the others politely tried to conceal their mirth. "Are you three children quite through?" That was enough to calm us all very fast. "Good. It is about time that you accepted what you deserve, Sherlock. Mycroft, next time let me in on the secret. And Nona, whichever of those pranks were yours, it was very creative." 

Had my father actually complimented me twice in one breath? I didn't know what to say. Looking at my love and our victim (along with Watson), I could see that they too were speechless. Father grinned. "Ah, peace and quiet at breakfast. If only it could last." 

But it did last. Afterwards, I looked at Nona more as a miracle worker than an angel. 

**

**_Nona_** – 

The next day Sherlock, Watson, Mary, and I returned to London. All I could think was that if this was what he'd surprise me with only for the first anniversary, I couldn't wait to see what was going through Sherlock's mind for next year. Through the entire journey home he held my hand. It was mostly silent through the trip, because four hearts were too busy doing the majority of the talking. Cheesy and sounds like something that Watson would throw in, but that is exactly what happened.

At the station, Watson and Mary promised to visit Baker Street soon as they were settled into their new home. I could still see in their eyes it felt like life was a dream that neither wanted to wake from. I wondered if it was mine and Sherlock's gift or their love. If it was the latter, I prayed that Sherlock and I would feel the same once we married finally. I wanted to go ahead and set our date, but Sherlock still wanted to wait until I got my memories back. I knew that he was worried about trapping me into a marriage with him if I ended up hating him for our old fight, but I also knew that I had to go through that to find Father. But Sherlock wouldn't hear of it, so I was stuck waiting.

**

Two months after their wedding, the Watsons joined Sherlock and I for the Christmas holidays at Oakstaff. I was excited because I missed being around my adopted family, and because I saw Sherlock and his father becoming better acquainted. I wasn't sure, but something told me that they were not always close. 

Virgil told me that all he wanted for Christmas was my memories to return. Father (as my soon to be father-in-law continually encouraged me to call him) only wanted to see his middle son married off. The snort Mycroft gave sent laughter ripping through everyone! Sherlock later whispered in my ear that he wanted my memories back as well, but that he had the best of gifts – my being his fiancée. I blushed hotly at that.

As it had been every night since the one time we slept together, Sherlock and I were in our usual separate rooms. I tossed and turned because I missed the sound of his soft snoring (yes, he does snore very softly, but I listened for it every night to put me to sleep), tomorrow being Christmas didn't help matters at all – though really it was somewhere around two-thirty in the morning. I got up and started down the hall when I spied movement just ahead of me. Slowly creeping along, I soon found that the mysterious shadow was a young Virgil out of bed. I couldn't help myself. "What do you think you're doing?" Whoa, did **that** feel vaguely familiar.

Virgil started to scream; luckily I covered his mouth with my hand. Seeing me, he calmed down. I knelt down to his level and smirked at his fuming face. "Aunt Nona, that wasn't very nice!"

"And it was not very adult-like either. I just couldn't stop myself." Oh man, another weird feeling. I shook it off. "You do know that Santa will skip over this house if you are still up."

"He won't see me. I'll be real quiet. I promise." Virgil bounced in place, his gray eyes begging me to release him. I just couldn't wait to have kids of my own. "He'll know before he even lands and leave."

Virgil thought a moment. "What about you?"

Damn, this kid was good. But, I remembered someone else catching me as a child and answering that question – but who? My dad. Well Virgil got a nub of his Christmas wish at least. "I'm an adult, and I get to help him put out packages, and that's why I'm going down to the library and wait for him. Now I won't tell him about this little mischief, but you had better scram. He's due **_very_** soon."

Virgil rushed off as fast as his feet could carry him. I chuckled at myself and shook my head. This mom stuff might not be that tough after all – except for the terrible twos and the teenage years …  eww, do not want to think about that right now.  I went on down to the library with a chuckle in my throat and a smile on my face. Low what to my wide opened eyes did see? An old copy of the Strand magazine! Ironically it was Watson's first story – 'A Study in Scarlet'. I sat down with it and read, not noticing the shadowy figure that was coming into the room through the door behind me.

**

**_In the Twenty-first Century …_****__**

Trish slammed the door shut. Damn the school … damn that library … and damn Nona E. Brown! Where the hell was she? The rent was due once again, and Trish just didn't have the money for it this month. She owed the library, which had put a hold on her transcripts, blocking her from attending the following semester of classes. That broke her scholarship money, which meant no going back to school – period! She had begged every cent she could out of family and friends along with working a VERY crummy job for less than minimum wage for bills and food. But that wasn't all of it. Nona seemed to have just vanished! She and Trish had been friends forever; if she had really skipped town, she would have called Trish. Over a year without a single clue. Where was that Sherlock Holmes guy Nona was so in love with when a person needed him most? A hundred plus years in history and in the mind of a doctor who grew to hate the guy, that's where.

She started to head for a long shower, before the water company decided to shut it off, but a heavy knock on her door sent all of her nerves on alert. She went over and peered through the peephole. Outside looked like an official military man of some kind, but he didn't look like a guy from any U.S. forces that she'd ever seen. "Yes?"

"Miss Patricia Young? I have a package my office was ordered sometime ago to deliver to you today. It concerns a Miss. Nona E. Brown." The man said with a heavy British accent. That was enough for Trish. Hell, she even forgave the boob for using her real name. Ripping the door open she fought off worried tears. "What do you mean it was given to your office **_sometime_** ago? Nona's been missing over a year!"

"I know. This was given to my office many years ago with strict orders to only deliver it right at this moment on this day. I know nothing more than that." He handed over a large almost coat sized box. In fancy writing it said 'Miss. Patricia Young – NYC Campus Dormitories – Building Four – Room 311 – December 24, 2003 – 9:15 pm'. When she looked up the mysterious man was gone.

Shutting the door, Trish looked over the box. It was certainly old, at least a few decades if not more. Carefully she cut the strings and opened the paper to find a note on top of the box in **NONA'S HANDWRITING**! She ripped the envelope open, but Nona Brown certainly did not write the letter that was inside. It read like this:

_December 28, 1887___

_Dear Miss Young,_

_As you can tell, this letter is undoubtedly not penned by your missing friend. Nona is alive and very well. In this box is the missing book you are being charged for. Nona begs your forgiveness in not returning with it at the time that she had promised you she would, but in this situation she had little choice. She had no idea that she was going to take this little trip and would have contacted you by now if we had known that had been in any way possible. In fact this package would not have come to you if it had not been a passing comment of my elder brother Mycroft._

_Do not scoff at the date above, for it is the actual date I am writing this letter. And please do not suspect at the signature on this document, for I assure you that is genuine as well. I am Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street, London._

_Nona has been living for the past year, two months, and one week in Baker Street with myself and, until recently, Watson. The reason she is never mentioned in what she says to call 'the Canon' is so she will never have knowledge of the fact that events would possible lead her to my front door._

_Now for me to come to the heart of the matter, Miss Young. Nona's life was placed in very severe jeopardy recently. The details themselves will become clear dependant on your upcoming actions. It was only by what she told me is called CPR that she is still with us._

_In three hours, the 'hiccup'(Nona's terminology, not my own) that brought Nona to us will activate once again. At the corner where 'Red's Laundry' is located, there is an alleyway that normally leads to the path leading to your dormitory. In three hours it will lead you to London – not far from Regent's Park. You go to the cab on the corner to your left and tell the cabbie your on a mission for me and to take you to Charing Cross Station, he will not charge you. You will have fifteen minutes to check any luggage you bring with you and acquire your ticket. You will be getting off at North Riding. At the end of the platform will be an elderly man looking anxious. Tell him your name (nickname if you prefer) and he will take you to Oakstaff Manor. I will pay him in the morning. It is imperative that the moment you get there that you make as much noise as you can to wake as many as you can. You will be met with suspicion and doubt. Keep fighting until I come to the door. Give me this letter, and I swear that you will be admitted._

_Another 'hiccup' will occur twenty-four hours later in the front door of Oakstaff. Nona wants me to make it clear to you that she had no intention of going back to the twenty-first century with you. She and I are to be wed in January, and she wishes to remain here as my wife._

_If you intend to come to our aid, follow my earlier directions to the letter. Until then, Miss Young._

_Most Sincerely Yours,_

_Sir Sherlock Holmes_

Trish read over the note a second time. This was too wild. Nona was in 19th century England with a story character and wasn't coming back? Only one way to be sure – the Internet! She got online and looked up marriage certificates, birth certificates, even land deeds. There was nothing. Wait a minute, what was that place in the note? North Riding. With a few keystrokes, and an unknown outside push, Trish found what she was looking for. A marriage license for 25 January 1888 – Sir William S. Holmes and Miss Nona E. Brown! Birth certificates for kids by them, even the couple's death certificates. Trish snickered. She remembered Nona complaining that she was going to end up an old maid with cats for kids. Instead she ends up Queen of Nursery Row! Only then did Trish get curious of her own place in history. That was when her computer decided to slow down to around the arthritic limp of a gene's slowest lethargic mutation cycle in the start of a three-year itch! Three hours, and she wasted one web surfing! There were things she wanted to pack, and things she knew Nona would want, and Trish knew she wanted to at least shower before she left for this jaunt back in time.

Jumping out of the warm bathroom, Trish decided to go without makeup. She had no clue as to cosmetics style in that era. Heck, she had no idea of fashions in that century either! By the time she got out and checked the clock again there was a little over an hour to go. That meant it was too late for research. 'God, how I am going to miss my computer.' Trish thought to herself. Wait, what brought that on? Shaking her head, she borrowed an outfit from Nona's old clothes, since Nona was slightly more conservative in fashion than she was. Then she dried her hair. Another part of the modern world that Trish decided she would miss – blow dryers. Okay, this was getting scary. Obviously she had decided to stay with Nona. Showing up with the missing book and any dough she could borrow from her missing friend? No, thank you. She'd be a murder suspect in a heartbeat if that ruddy stupid cop that still hounded her about Nona's disappearance had his say.

Trish regretted that she couldn't take everything with her. She certainly couldn't take any outfits with her, because she would stick out like a sore thumb. No makeup. She started to pack Nona's Sherlock Holmes collection and then began to think clearly – that would change the cases if he or Watson ever found them. Not to mention why would she want her collection when she had the man himself as a husband? Okay all that stuff was out. What could she take then?

Things Nona said were gifts from her family (if it had nothing to do with Sherlock that is), especially the ones from her grandmother who died six months before Nona disappeared. Jewelry boxes, and definitely that paper Trish lifted from Professor Meyer's office. She knew that Nona would have heart failure when the girl saw the grade and notes on it! But what else?

Trish knew that Nona took her portable CD player with her. And knowing Nona, the batteries in the thing were dead. Trish divided all of the batteries she could find in the house and then packed CDs along with her own player/headphones/speakers set and Nona's speakers. Her favorite books by L.J. Smith, the book version of the Labyrinth movie, her spiral notebooks, some of her fancy pens, pencils, all of her erasers, and a manual sharpener. Only then did Trish think about how she'd pay for the train ticket. And then the mysterious box came back to mind.

In a flash, she tore it open and found (along with the obviously worn library book – somebody had been reading it greedily it seemed. Not too hard to guess who that was) an antiquated appearing dress, a corset, boots, and all the stuff women wore in the nineteenth century – or so she supposed. There was another note at the bottom.

_December 28, 1887___

_Hey Trishie!_

_Yeah, this time the letter is from me. Obviously you have **FINALLY** opened the box and found the outfit I bought ya. Get used to the corset fast because bras aren't going to be around for a while, and you can't cheat with these outfits. And if you're reading this note, then you are getting ready to come (Get your mind out of the gutter!). I owe you big time girl … and I mean it seriously._

_Okay, First thing you put on is the chemise. It looks like a modern nightgown and goes down to your knees. It keeps your corset clean. The panties that almost look like bicycle shorts go on next – they're called bloomers, just in case you decide to stay; after all you'll need to know the lingo. Yes, they are supposed to have a split in the crotch! Next comes the corset – God, I can't wait for bras to be invented; I'll be the first in line for one!_

_The next knock on the door will be a young teen by the name of Sarah (don't bring up the Labyrinth reference – she's from this time. In fact she is the newest Irregular, and Wiggins', the group's leader, little sister, so be good to her) She'll help you get in the corset and everything else. The camisole is next. The bustle and slips come next, and then the dress. I hope you have the shoes on first. Once you get the corset is on forget getting them on!_

_Let's see. Yes, I am absolutely sure I am not going back to the twenty-first century. Things are harder here at times (especially if you come from our century without a single clue as to what young women our age should already know), but I'm in love, happy, and have gotten use to things here. I'd miss you like crazy, but here I am whole._

_In the envelope you found money. It's fifty pounds, ten half crowns, five crowns, and twenty shillings. Whatever you don't use in the twenty-four hours we'll have together, use it to get yourself caught up and have some spending money as well. Call it my way of making things up to you._

_One thing though, can you bring me some of that chocolate cheesecake ice cream? I really miss that. And strawberry too. Sell one of the shillings to a coin collector. Tell them you found it in a purse in the floor of your closet. That will explain its condition. Heck, bring any treats you think will survive a four-hour train ride. Oh well, no ice cream, I guess. Thanks though, girl._

_And by the way, you have until ten tomorrow night. Sherlock said three hours because he just wanted you to get ready for when Sarah shows up. Sarah knows a lot about our time and is excited to be chosen to go help you get ready. Show her around, and keep her safe. Oh, and do me a favor – take her to Beauty and the Beast. She loves the story the way I told it to her – and yes, I mean by the mouse!___

_Love ya,_

_Nona_

That proved it. Only Nona would write like that. And only Nona would beg her to go to the play Trish adored above all others! "Well, here I come, nineteenth century."

There was a knock on the door. When she opened it, Trish saw a nervous ten-year-old kid. She had blond hair and blue eyes, at least that was what Trish thought her hair was, under all of the dirt. "Hey, Sarah."

"Ya 'now moi name? 'Ow?" She sputtered out in shock.

Trish chuckled and showed her the note before figuring that maybe the kid didn't know how to read Nona's excited cursive handwriting. "Nona told me you were coming. Come in. Looks like it is us girls for a little while."

"Miss Nona said I'd be goin' ta 'er 'ime. That I'd 'ave fun 'n all." Sarah smiled with stars in her eyes.

Trish shook her head. This would be fun. First she talked Sarah into a long hot bubble bath. The kid liked it. After talking Sarah into one of Nona's outfits, they went out to McDonalds. Sarah was stunned by that, and loved the playground best of all (according to her that is). Then they went to one of Trish's friends who loved old coins. Trish figured why only one shilling – she sold three along with two fairly clear five pound notes and a crown. It was more than enough for what she planned to do.

First she and Sarah went for ice cream. Got some videos and popcorn on the way home and ended up snoozing half way through 'Annie'. Next morning they finished it, returned the videos, and ate breakfast at a good restaurant. Then they paid off all of Trish and Nona's bills (it felt good to be debt free). Afterwards it was off to Broadway. First Beauty and the Beast, and then Les Miserables.

A quick stop at the store and the girls made Trish's hodgepodge. After that they cleaned up the apartment. Trish threw a few more gifts into Nona's bag, Sarah didn't want another shower since she was going home the second they got back to London, but Trish needed it. An hour later she was dry, dressed (though uncomfortable and thinking that coming back wouldn't be all that bad), and it was off with Sarah to the nineteenth century.

**

**_Trish_** –

I have never been so uncomfortable or scared in my life. Sarah ran off the moment we got through that WAY too long alley, leaving me all on my own. I turned around to see that at the corner to my left was one of those two-wheeled cabs I would see in the Sherlock Holmes movies Nona made me watch with her, just like in the note said. I grabbed the three bags I brought with me and moved to the cab. "Um ... excuse me. Mr. Sherlock Holmes asked me to do an errand for him, and said that I was to get you to take me to … uh, Charing Cross Station."

"'Ello, Mr. 'Olmes in need uv sum help? Tell 'im I'll see 'im the end of da month like always. Get on in, girlie." The cabbie nodded, jumped down, and helped me into the cab before loading my three bags. Then he jumped up into his seat and we were off. He opened a little hole in the roof. "You's from da future like Miss Nona?"

That scared me. "Yeah, how did you know about that?"

"The way's you acting. A few of us know 'bout Miss Nona, but no one talk much 'bout it anymore. Don't ya worry 'ow. Ol' Billy will help ya get where you's need ta go. Where you off ta?"

I pulled the note out of my little purse thingy. As we passed a lamplight, I found the words. "North Riding." The cabman nodded. "Mr. 'Olmes be frum dere. Must be 'portant." I looked over the note again and felt a lump in my throat. 'CPR'. That meant Nona was in deep trouble! "It is. Someone is in trouble, and I have knowledge that will save them."

The cabbie rushed the horse harder. Before I knew it, we were at this really cool train station. In all the years I lived in New York I had never rode a train. Well, who'd though my first time would happen before I was legally born? Guess there'd be time to sightsee later on at least I hoped so. Billy jumped down and helped me down and insisted on carrying my bags. Thanks to him, I got my ticket, got my bags checked, and got to the train just before it pulled out. He tried to refuse it, but I forced a shilling in his hand. He had helped me so much, it was the least I could do. I could only hope that I would make it in time.

Billy had told me that it was Christmas Eve here too while we waited for the ticket person to finish with another customer. I couldn't help but smile at that. Nona was getting a big surprise from me.

**

**_Nona_** –

I was too deeply engrossed in the story to know that I was in danger, but then again I was safe in my fiancé's family home. Nothing was supposed to go wrong here on Christmas Eve; I thought so at least. That is until I was slapped hard. I fell back because of the force and landed in the middle of the couch and someone sat on my hips. I knew the blond man. It wasn't Darby Edwards – he was already hanged and buried. Who was this guy on top of me then?

"Your lover has cost me my freedom, girl. Now that will cost you your life!" He hissed.

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it on to my face, hard. I couldn't breathe, and it was terrifying! I was going to die and Sherlock was too far away to hear my muffled cries. This wasn't fair! We wanted to be together all of our lives … we had plans … we … banging?

Everything slowly went black. But then a bright light shimmered on me and I felt someone help me stand up. Finally I could breathe, but it felt off. I wasn't scared, and the pains in my chest were gone. I finally remembered everything! And then I knew where I was! No, not that! Please! I looked at who helped me stand up. Was this really her?

**

**_Sherlock_** –

I woke to a hard and low banging on my door, combined with crying – Virgil's crying. "Uncle Sherlock, wake up!" I slid on my robe and tore opened my door to have the boy launched himself into my arms. "Virgil, what is wrong?" He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. "Someone is trying to kill Aunt Nona!"

I had to fight my first instinct to run to her room. Obviously Nona wasn't in her room if Virgil knew of the attack. "Where is she, Virgil?" He took a breath, and calmed down. "She's waiting for Santa in the library."

At that we both ran back to the library. God, I almost lost her once. I doubted that I could survive without Nona. She was too much a part of me, even if I rarely showed it or said such. That was how I felt.

As I made it down the stairs, someone cried out my name. "Mr. Holmes! Please, if I don't get in Nona's gonna die! I've got a letter to prove it!"

In seconds I summed up about this young woman what would take others minutes or even hours. She was taller than the tallest housemaid, unusual in women of this age. Her skin was a pale tan, meaning she had been somewhere tropical though not recently. She knows Nona is here and in danger. Her wavy brown hair was down about her shoulders; unusual given the dark gray traveling clothes she was wearing. She shows up at this hour making a racket to get admittance into the house. She was also very strong having kept the door jarred open with three maids pushing against it. Most likely deduction – she had to be from the future.

I grabbed the letter and knew it was my handwriting. I didn't remember writing it. But the seriousness of it, the date, and the look in the young woman's dark eyes (for it was too dark to see their true color) told me that she was being truthful. "Trish, I believe? Come along."

With my inviting her in the maids stopped trying to keep the young woman out. With the same nerve and determination I adored in Nona, Trish exploded into the foyer. She was frantic as the servants let her in and went outside to retrieve her things. It seemed that Virgil roused the rest of the family during all of this, as they were then coming down the stairs at that moment. We all rushed into the room and the sight that greeted us was a horror. 

On the near couch was a merciless man seated a top on young woman. It was at that moment that her hands, which had been struggling to free herself, fell limply. It was unreal, and I felt distant for a moment. It couldn't be Nona, because she was safe in bed. How I wanted to believe that. The man didn't stop his holding a pillow over the young woman's face. All of this flashed in my mind in a fraction of the time most others needed.

Trish screamed out for Nona, which surprised the attacker and we all saw him – Sir Roger Edwards! That made him drop the pillow and I saw her. My Nona, my sweet angel, my fiancée – she was the young woman hidden beneath the pillow. Her lips were blue and I could see that her chest wasn't moving. My love was dead, and Edwards was the one who stole her life, our lives, and our future. First he stole my mother from me, and now he stole my angel … my only love!

I growled and threw him off of her body. I wasn't sure at the time, but later I realized that my father and both of my brothers were helping me beat down the monster. It was Trish's screaming that grabbed our attentions – saving Edwards' life for the moment.

"Nona! Don't do this! You not a quitter, so don't you dare quit now!" I saw Watson pushing down on my sweet Nona's chest.

**

**_Nona_** –

Was I really staring at … it couldn't be! "Lady Violet?"

She smiled at me, and I froze. Holmes really was his mother all made over! Again I remembered. And I hurt so bad, if only in my heart. "Please …"

She smiled at me and raised a hand to me. "Don't worry, my daughter. I have messages that only you can deliver for me, and you needed your memories back. Please don't be angry with my son for words he said when he wasn't in his right mind. You are his life now, and he is so scared of losing you."

I remembered that. Our fight, his rescuing me and his father, the joy in his eyes as my memories slowly returned. How he woke screaming in his nightmarish de-toxing, crying out for me … afraid that I had left him. Now it made sense. "I love him so much, Lady Violet. He means the world to me, and I don't want to be without him. That's why I have to go back … for him. Because I can't be happy here knowing that he and I have so much left unsaid and undone."

Her smile was so like my love's it was near scary for me to be standing there. "My new and beautiful daughter. Don't use my name and title. You do not do such for my husband any longer. I ask the same of you. Please call me your equivalent of Mother." I had to smile as she hugged me warmly. Dad had been right, she accepted me as I was and wanted me to call her mom. And really I couldn't help but think of her in that way. "Okay, Mom. Can you please tell me …"

"I know, my daughter. No, William is not a bastard child. He **is** Siger's son, as my irascible husband has learned the harshest of ways. Let me tell you the story, and what I need you to tell them for me – including what will prove your words to be true." We walked over to a bench and it felt as if we talked for hours.

She told me more about Sherlock's childhood, and how it was her moving certain motions in time and space was what had created the hiccup for me to arrive in the past. It seemed that if she hadn't at the middle of the alleyway I would have been murdered for the buck-fifty I had in my pocket at the time. She saw that since I would have lost my life, I would prefer to live with her son (an assumption I full heartedly agreed with). It pleased the powers that be more than my death would have, so the change in time was allowed. Mom had also moved Sherlock and Watson in the positions that helped them meet – Holmes falling in love with our rooms in Baker Street but his purse being too light for the cost, and Watson needing more affordable accommodations and friendship. That I had to laugh at, since her movements undoubtedly brought Sherlock and I together. Mom only smiled and nodded when I pointed that out, seeing as it was Watson's writings that caught my imagination and made me fall in love with Sherlock.

Mom hated the destruction Sherlock was causing in his body with the drugs, and that was one reason she sent me to him. She also knew that I loved the Sherlock Holmes I had read so much about, even with his rough edges and cheeky humor. She knew that I would take care of him and teach him to trust and love again. She also knew that I would show Sherlock that bloodlines didn't matter as much as he had grown up believing. Mom told me that she knew I would be able to make Sherlock see all of that.

I was so happy getting to know my future mother-in-law. And somehow I knew that I was safe and everything that went wrong was going to be righted. Mom told me that she had secured this time with her, so there would be no brain damage and there was an old friend of mine fighting to bring me back. The first name that came to mind was Trish. Mom nodded without my saying a word and I smiled. As much of a bitch the girl could be at times, Trish was one of the few people I knew without question I could count on. I was amazed at my mom-in-law-to-be, she had move so much to get me to this moment, I was sure that she would keep my body safe as well.

"The day that I died, William and I went to visit the Richardson's for tea. I spilt some on my dress while laughing at the children's antics. I was dabbing it off my dress in the kitchen when it happened. This much I know you have already been told." Mom looked so sad and lonely that I had to put an arm around her, which made her smile.

She sighed and continued her story. "What you did not learn was what happened in the kitchen that fateful day. I heard footsteps come into the room, and they seemed familiar, but it was the voice – even disguised as it was – that told me who it was. He demanded my wedding ring, but I refused. He said that I would regret my choice. He would destroy all that I so dearly loved. Nona dear he very nearly did just that. Don't let him win. The danger will not end with the Black Fox. Please be careful."

"I will mom."

She gave me the identity of the Black Fox, and then we talked on for what seemed to be hours. About her boys, life in those early years, how she had watched me grow up, and how she adored me. It was as if I had my mother-in-law for a guardian angel all of my life – and in a strange way that was exactly what she had become to me.

**

**_Trish_** –

I couldn't believe what I was seeing! A pillow covered my best friend's face and her hand was hanging limp. God, no! It couldn't be her! But then the pillow was moved away and I saw her face. "Nona!"

Holmes and most of the other men beat the crap out of the guy who had been on top of my best friend. Looking at the little kid beside me, I could see he wanted to help. "Can you move that table out of my way?" He looked up at me warily, but nodded his head. "Yeah."

Once the table was out of the way I could check Nona. Her neck felt fine. I had to calm down and think – um … yeah, ABC's. Airway, Breathing, and Circulation! God, no pulse or breathing! There was a gentleman trying to push me out of the way saying he was a doctor – obviously this was the famous Dr. John H. Watson. He'd just say Nona was dead; I wasn't ready to give up. "Yeah, but I'm from the twenty-first century, and if we don't get Nona on the floor now so I can do CPR, she'll be dead!"

That was enough for Watson. He helped me get Nona on the floor. I repositioned her head twice like I was taught, hoping beyond hope that I was wrong. No pulse, no breathing. I gave her two breaths, and then set my hands up and gave her fifteen chest compressions. It couldn't end like this! Breaths, compressions, I went on until I thought a minute passed. Okay, time to recheck. I was hoping with all of my heart she was back. Nothing! Damn!

Watson was paying attention to my moves. I knew that in a corset I wouldn't be able to keep this up for too long – it just hurt too damn bad. Two more breaths, and I looked up at him. The pain was just too much for me. "Can you take over the chest compressions? I can't anymore – this damn corset." He nodded. I walked him through it. Two fingers felt for her ribcage up to the bottom of her sternum (chest bone), two fingers up from that he lid his palm flat on the center of her chest, then he covered that hand with his right hand and interlocked his fingers, finally he got up above Nona's body and forced his upper body down on her chest about an inch and a half maybe two inches. Fifteen compressions later, I gave two breaths. It felt so hopeless! "Nona! Don't do this! You not a quitter, so don't you dare quit now!" 

The next thing I knew, Sherlock Holmes was beside me. I was about to collapse. The corset was making rescuing too hard on me – I couldn't do the compressions, and it was too tight to get a decent breath in for Nona. "I need someone to take over for me!"

I wasn't surprised when it was Mr. Baker Street himself who volunteered to do it. I taught him how to use his palm to tilt back Nona's head and lift her chin to clear her airway. Then he gave her two deep breaths. Then I collapsed back against someone while I caught my breath and tried to deal with the pain. Looking up for a moment, I was stunned. I knew him. Who was he? Nona had described him to me. Oh God, I was lying against Mycroft Holmes! Even though he was a little too overweight for my tastes, he was kinda cute. But I had to focus on Nona right at that moment, not another reason for me to stay in this century.

This was nothing like my training at all. But here I was in a corset, recovering from trying to perform CPR and teaching two guys from the nineteenth century to do it themselves! After about a minute, I had them stop, and I checked – nothing! Without my saying, the world's most famous team ever went back to working on Nona. Neither of them was ready to give up. I fell back against Mycroft, and was feeling very comfortable leaning on him.

**

**_Mycroft_** –

I saw that Nona's friend was about to pass out. Thankfully she recognized this and taught my little brother how to breathe for his fiancée. Before she could hit the floor, I settled behind the tired young woman and held her up so she could see what was happening. After a moment she looked up at me, and after a few moments she seemed to know who I was. Obviously she was very much like my dear future sister-in-law. Now if all of this frenzy would bring Nona back from the dead.

Four times the young woman checked Nona, and yet nothing. Still, the doctor and my brother were not ready to give up on resurrecting Nona, while the new young woman rested against me. She looked very uncomfortable and had obviously cracked or broken at least one of her ribs in trying to save my future sister-in-law. But would her injuries have been for nothing at all? I began to pray for the first time in so very long that Nona would not be joining Mother in the afterlife. But with each negative check it became harder and harder to hope. Perhaps Sherlock and Nona were not meant to be together after all. No, I had to believe that she was not going to leave us, for Sherlock's sake if no one else's.

And then Sherlock began begging Nona to come back.

"Nona, don't go!" Breath. "Please!" Breath.

I was stunned when the young woman gave a yelp that gave me new hope. "Got her! Keep breathing for her. One breath every five seconds. Her heart is going on it's own again!"

Sherlock's eyes were full of tears. Once again, he hoped. I saw that clearly as he continued to fight for his true love. All of us began to truly hope. The young woman smiled up at me as if she knew without a doubt that everything was going to work out, and that sweet smile became contagious – for I felt it grow on my face as well.

Breath. "Don't leave me, Nona." Breath.

**

**_Nona_** –

"Nona, don't go!" I heard it, but it was so faint. Sherlock was calling out to me. Mom's smile was so sad. "I hear them all, whenever they call out or even think to me – I hear them."

Then Sherlock came in louder. "Please."

"I have to go back to him, Mom. I want to be his wife before I die."

She hugged me tightly for a moment. "Then remember all of this, my sweet daughter. This and all you once forgot. Welcome to our family, Nona. … my daughter."

I felt funny all of the sudden. I realized that I was going back. I looked back at her with a bright smile. "I love you, Mom!" The last thing I heard her say was, "And I love you, my newest daughter."

Then it was Sherlock … and he was right next to me. "Don't leave me, Nona."

My chest hurt bad. And I felt Sherlock's warm lips over my mouth. He was breathing for me. But, CPR was discovered in the twentieth century! How did he learn how to breathe for me? Suddenly the urge to cough and breathe hit me. Luckily, Sherlock was listening for my body to breathe without his help. I was moved as I coughed and wheezed more air into my lungs. I clutched who held me. Sandalwood soap … shag tobacco? It was Sherlock! He was holding me tight as I breathed in his scent.

I opened my eyes to find tears in his. I loved those beautiful gray eyes right then more than ever! "Sherlock. I'd never leave you." At that he hugged me in his joy. And then I saw who was across from me. "Trish?"

"Hey, girlie-girl! Merry Christmas! Word of warning, never do CPR in a corset! Who invented this torture device? I'd like to kill him!" She chuckled as she wiped her tears away. Was she really relaxing, wait make that snuggling, against a very satisfied Mycroft? Well, that explained that not-to-be-told-right-away message from Mom.

Sherlock was worried once again. Time to set those fear to rest – once and for all. "I love you. And nothing will ever change that. Not even major fights." Holmes smiled on me and held me close again. That is until Virgil broke over to climb in our arms. "Yea! Aunt Nona is okay! Did you see my grandma, Aunt Nona?"

Before anyone could say a word, I smiled. "Yes, I did. And she was very proud of you for doing what your heart said to do. She told me that you had a bad feeling about my safety and followed me, and that you were the one who ran and got Sherlock for me when you saw that I was in trouble. You helped to save me." He snuggled in my arms, and I felt so loved.

I could see the rest thought that I was merely patronizing the kid once again. I shook my head. "I know what all of you think, but it isn't an untruth. I did see Mom, and she told me to call her that just like you told me she would, dad. I'll prove it. Mycroft, you and Sherrinford swiped a lot of things dad thought that he had sold or destroyed. Mycroft has his stash hid and locked with four separate locks in his office desk – right hand side, top drawer. And Sherrinford hid his in the nursery – under a loose floorboard beneath Virgil's bed."

Both brothers gasped in shock. Dad sat down, as if he was waiting his condemnation. I shook my head at that. "Dad, Mom still loves you as much as ever. She was hurt and disappointed about the past. But, you have started to make up for that now. That is all you can do. She wouldn't tell me how though."

I looked up at Holmes and smiled brightly. "She is so proud of you. And told me herself that you are not a bastard. Think about all of the people who would be dead or in some cases wishing that they were if it weren't for you. Even just now you, Watson, and Trish saved my life. She has never once blamed you for her death. But, I know who did kill Mom – the Black Fox. She walked in on him and refused to give up her wedding ring because she recognized his voice."

Sherrinford knelt near me and took my left hand in his own. He knew that I knew the truth. "Nona, who was it?"

I looked at the bleeding lump of flesh on the other side of the room. "Sir Roger Edwards. He wanted her ring to try breaking her and Dad up. But, mom refused, she loved dad so much that she would never willing aide anyone in breaking his heart."

Enraged beyond words, Dad leapt up and started beating Edwards with his cane. Sherrinford and Mycroft finally got him to pull back and stop. It would take time for our family to heal from that wound. Trish got up and stiffly moved. And then it happened. Edwards pulled out a gun and aimed it at Dad! The scum's voice was rough and filled with pain. "She should have been mine!"

Everyone seemed to be frozen at the idea of Dad targeted – everyone but Trish. I was glad that she was there. She slid around out of his vision and grabbed Edwards' wrist. The gun went off, plaster fell off the ceiling and cut Trish's arm deep. Both Sherrinford and Mycroft took control of the situation after that. Sherrinford took the gun, while a concerned Mycroft dragged Trish away from the situation to Watson's medical care. Yes, there was something there between the pair.

Watson stitched up Trish's arm that night (with Mycroft sitting beside her to give his hand and support). Thankfully, the wound was minor, but she didn't like getting stitches. Watson did a wonderful job and doubted there would be an obvious scar once her arm healed (as predicted, he was right – only a faint line that never really showed much and was coverable with cosmetics).

The police came an hour later and took Edwards off to face multiple charges of grand theft, along with my attempted murder, aiding in poor Mrs. Pittston's murder, dad's attack, and the murder of Mom. He had stupidly attacked us with the same gun that he shot mom with, damming him without a single shred of doubt. December 29th he was hung and then buried next to his son. 

I went through the suitcase that Trish had brought with her for me. I explained most of the things mom had told me (along with her hearing our thoughts and words), and even let Virgil borrow my CD player and a holiday CD, along with the min speakers Trish had thoughtfully packed when he was tucked into bed later on. When I found my paper on Sherlock, Trish smirked and snuggled closer to Mycroft. "I knew you would love to see that paper. But, old Meyer said he wouldn't let me have it. That you had to come by and get it yourself. Can I help it that it fell in my bag and I zipped it in without noticing until I got home. And I can't help that I kept on forgetting to take it back – I had my life too you know."

The smirk on her face said otherwise. "You swiped it from his desk when he wasn't looking." I corrected her. Trish smirked even dirtier. "It fell in my bag – never said that it didn't have help in falling. Read it, you'll freak."

Shaking my head I opened it to find that I had a perfect grade on it! "Oh god! He never gave me a perfect grade on a paper. I was lucky to get a 'B' most of the time. He always hated my way of typing out his chosen topics, and doubly hated my free topics like this one."

Trish smiled up at Mycroft a moment before looking back over at me. "Read the first comment. It is a kicker!"

'**For once, Miss. Brown, you have written intelligently about a topic as well as writing your paper with feeling rather than only writing with you intense passions. This is a paper that I have been waiting for you to write all term! Continued writing this grade of work and you may find yourself becoming my assistance before long.**'

Sherlock and everyone smiled at that. I read the next note and choked a sob.

'**A not often submitted topic, written with obvious knowledge, and in a new position rather than rewording the works of others. A challenge that few are able to rise to. Very well done, Miss. Brown.**'

I rested my head on Sherlock's shoulder and smiled. I was a better student than I ever thought. Virgil looked wide-eyed at me. "What was your topic, Aunt Nona?"

I loved to hear him call me that. "Your Uncle, and Watson."

Both men were stunned. Trish added to it. "And she titled it '_The Baker Street Files: or A Case for the Existence of 221B and Those Connected to That Famous Address_'. I loved reading it."

"You read my paper!" I fumed.

Trish smiled. "What did you expect? You worked on it for two weeks! I wanted to know why you hid in your room all that time rather than partying with me. And you were proven right."

Holmes rubbed my arm and smiled. "So, what did you write, my Nona?"

I handed it over to him, and he read out the contents.

**I.) Introducing the Players**

**II.) The Location and Why It is Missing**

**III.) The Myths of Baker Street**

**IV.) The Jack Factor**

"What is the Jack factor you wrote about?" Dad asked.

I sighed. "Remember I brought up the idea that someone might have purposely killed Mrs. Pittston? That was where that idea starts. Later this year there will be five murders in Whitechapel that will be attributed to a murder who calls himself Jack the Ripper. Everyone wondered why you and Watson didn't take up the case. I wrote that I believed you two _were_ called in and that was why the murders stopped, but it was kept silent because the suspect was killed and no one wanted the truth to go out."

Trish shook her head. "That isn't until the last of August. And neither of us remembers exactly who was killed or any other details. It is one of the biggest mysteries of this era. They still haven't solved the case."

"It is the holidays, and we shouldn't weigh ourselves down with what might happen." Holly looked over at Virgil worriedly. Sherlock hugged my shoulders with a look of strength. "Holly is right. We have to much to celebrate."

"Hey speaking of!" Trish rushed out into the hall and painfully dragged another bag in. Mycroft picked it up and carried it for her (gaining a sweet smile from Trish – Sherlock and I both nodded at the romance we saw starting). "Thank you Mycroft. In your letter Nona you asked me to bring you some ice cream – but that wouldn't last four hours and all of this yakking we have all been doing. But I did snag some goodies, if anyone feels like celebrating outright?"

Virgil jumped about in his excitement. "Goodies! Goodies! Goodies!"

We all laughed at his outburst as Trish opened the bag. I was in shock! Chocolate Cheesecake (close enough to the ice cream I was craving), McDonalds fast food (though the fries weren't that great half cold), Chocolate Lover's Chips Deluxe cookies, two big batches of Trish's hodgepodge (that was a big hit), sodas, pizzas, and cinnamon breadsticks with icing.

All of my favorite treats were gobbled up in no time. Though none of us ate breakfast later on. Sherlock was wary of trying the pizza, but quickly loved it as much as I do. Thankfully, Trish made a double copy of her recipe for it (including her homemade sauce). Nonetheless, it was served often at Baker Street (Mrs. Hudson, Grace, and Billy all loved it too).

Near dawn, everyone broke off for bed or whatever they left to do and it was only Sherlock and I on the couch in the library. I rested my head on his shoulder. My energy was nearly gone. "I love you, Sherlock."

"As I love you, my Nona. I thought that I had lost you." He held me close. "I can't imagine my life without you in it."

I sighed and looked up at him with a smile. "Well, we should celebrate everyday we find we have together. I haven't changed my mind. But, you have to promise me that from now on, there won't be any bottling up everything. That is what a wife is for, to support her husband when he needs it. That is, if you still want me." I was scared he would change his mind. Sherlock kissed my forehead and rubbed my back in reply. "I suppose it is about time we set our wedding date." I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to. "Is next month too soon?"

He looked at me with tears of joy in his sparkling gray eyes. "Not at all, my Nona. It is perfect."

I liked him better when he wasn't self-loathing. "So when?"

"That, my sweet love, I will leave all up to you."

I still felt bad that I had no money and my family couldn't pay for it. "It will have to be smaller and cheaper than Watson's and Mary's."

Sherlock lifted my chin to make me look at him. "Create a dream wedding for us, love. Don't worry about the money. I have been saving back for this since after Watson's wedding. Standing there, I could actually see the two of us saying those words – with only one change."

That had my curiosity. "What?"

Sherlock smiled like the sneaky, loving man I knew long before. "I'd tell the pastor that you would not vow to obey me. I doubt that you could do it." I slapped him playfully for that one, before settling back in his arms – both of us chuckling. "And besides, if you were to start acting like other women of this era, then you would not be the Nona that has my heart for all time. And it is my Nona I want to marry, not some Victorian replica of you."

* * *

Hope this helps to clear up some of the problems my readers have been having.


	3. In Which I Face a Valley of Fear and My ...

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING**: The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **_EXTREMELY HIGH_** levels of **_BST_** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

**DISCLAIMER**: Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the US they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All BST characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian and NON-Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^

~~

Chapter 15

**In Which I Face a Valley of Fear and My Dream Comes True But is Haunted**

By Bonnie S.

~~

**_Nona_** –

Christmas was interesting to say the least that year. We didn't open presents until after dinner that night, mostly because Trish and I were worn out and didn't wake up until nearly dinner. But, when we did get around to handing out gifts, somehow Trish had gifts under the tree too – as if she had been an expected guest. Given that they acted a little wearier than the rest, I suspected the male Holmeses and Watson all helped in that while we ladies slept. However the good time was slightly marred by the fact that Trish was in bad pain, worse that I was. Watson examined her to discover that she had cracked one rib and bruised several others while doing CPR on me. After that, the lucky girl got a medical discharge from her corset and the entire household waited on her hand and foot (Mycroft more so than anyone). It only took an hour for her to get bored with it, but Watson insisted that Trish take it easy as to not break the rib that she had cracked (and she really didn't mind the attentions she got from Mycroft).

In due time the front door was opened and we all saw the warped path back to the twenty-first century. Watson tried to make Trish swear to him that she would seek out a doctor in our time once she got home, but my roommate wasn't really listening. To be honest, I only half heard him myself. Trish and I silently stood there looking at the portal for a moment. I thought about the family I had left behind. My parents, my brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins … I thought about how much I had missed them, and how much they probably missed me. Mom would have been at her wits end. Dad and my brothers would be following every single lead that came in. The younger kids would be praying that I would come back safe and sound. I wondered if I was being selfish for wanting to stay. But then I remembered something my dad told me before I left for college.

"**_Don't you worry about what we at home think, baby girl. Now you are in charge of your life. And a prettier lady there never was. You follow your heart, and you will always know where you belong._**"

Prettier lady? Had dad known this would happen all along? Why not? After all I got a message through to Trish. Looked like I would have to write a note home too – delivered before I left for college. I listened to my heart, backed up two paces, turned and wrapped my arms around the man I loved more than everything I once had. "This is where I belong."

Sherlock smiled as he held me close for a moment. At last he was sure I wasn't going to leave him forever. He was my husband-to-be and all I wanted. His last fears were gone at that moment. The look on his face was a sweet satisfaction that I was scared I'd never see again. I rested against his chest and silently sighed as I breathed in his scent, knowing that he was doing the same to me.

But, even I was surprised by what happened next. "Guess that we'd better close the door before someone else gets sucked into a time they don't belong." And with that Trish closed the door. She turned around, looked at our stunned faces, and winked at Mycroft – who blushed for a fraction of a second! I had to be seeing things! Please God! Is my best friend falling for my soon to be lawful brother? "What Nona? Did you think I wanted anymore interrogation sessions with our century's LeRat/Anderson combination?"

I understood then, and cracked up laughing. After all Trish and Mycroft? That would be like putting Christy Crawford with Louie Anderson! "So, they put Fat Lou on the case? It will never be solved!"

"Fat Lou?" Watson asked. Then I remembered that none of my new family had ever had the pleasure of meeting the 'detective' Trish and I loved to hate.

Trish smirked, obviously reading the expression on my face. "Police detective, third class, Harrell Loutonsyde III. The first term I used extremely lightly, given he makes Lestrade look more intelligent than all of the combined minds in this room at the moment ten fold. The second is a complete joke, given that he has no class whatsoever to go with what little brains he has in his empty melon of a head."

I had to laugh. It was too much. Trish sighed. "Besides there's no case to solve. Your parents told the police that you had moved to Europe, and were staying with friends. I didn't believe that because you would have left **_me_** a note a lot sooner than you finally did. The library just wanted its book back, so they contacted the cops. You know how 'Fat Lou' is … he won't give up until he proves that you are alive, living in the US, and are arrested for theft."

"Good luck! I think I'll give dad the money to pay for the book …" I shook slightly with mirth. To think that my daddy knew all along that his baby was going to get to live with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

Trish shook her head. "No need, cause I took care of that when Sarah and I were out sightseeing. You were right about Broadway, we had a ball and I even took her to Lés Miserablés. By the way, here's a note your dad sent you and wrote me a note say to give it to you the next time I saw you."

The note read like this:

**_December 25, 2003_**

****

**_Merry Christmas Baby Girl,_**

****

**_Yes, we all know where and when you are, and we know whom you are living with. Brian says to thank you for the collection of original magazines that featured Sherlock Holmes stories. It was sweet to give him a set to hide away and a set to read. Without going into detail, everyone thanks you for their presents. Little Ashley demands to tell you she loves you, misses you, can't wait for your visit (you'll learn about that later on), and she loves her toys, and that Mr. Holmes is a very nice man. You really did spoil her and the rest of the kids, but that has always been your way._**

****

**_Tell Sherlock that he has all of our blessings to marry you. That was your dream as a teen, and I won't rob you of it coming true. I am happy for you baby, and so is your mom. Wish we could be there, but maybe that will happen – one never knows for sure. After all, look at how things have turned out for you. But, if we don't get to be there, we are so happy for you and wish you both all of the best._**

****

**_Love Always,_**

**_Mom and Dad and Everyone_**

I read the note out loud to the group who had become my family. My birth family's agreement to our marriage made Sherlock smile warmly. I had to fight my tears as I hugged him. My family really did know the truth, and Dad had given me warning of it without saying it. At least now I didn't have to worry about them, and I knew that they weren't worried about me. They knew when and where I was, that I was safe, and that I was deeply in love.

I was amazed that Trish had decided to stay, despite her bruised rib cage, cracked rib, and cut arm she liked the difference in life – though she still missed her computer. Because she did so much to save Father's life, and mine, she was offered and accepted loggings at Oakstaff. Like me she hated to be a charity case (even if she had more than earned room and board **and** an allowance already), and so Theresa came to the rescue once again by suggesting an interesting position for Trish – Virgil's official playmate (once she healed up that is). Virgil loved it, and Trish didn't feel like a beggar.

I finished giving all of the private messages mom had sent back with me, except for one, and told everyone how Sherlock and I had finally settled on getting married the following month. That sent a swell of joy through the family that was now my own. The next day Sherlock put the entire wedding on my shoulders once again, wanting me to dream up our ceremony and all. Holly volunteered to help me – and thankfully she did. I had no idea how to plan a wedding as it was, much less one in an era I didn't grow up in. Trish too, who had become a wedding expert through all of the weddings she created for the characters in her fan fiction stories, agreed to help. So, we blended the past with the future in a wedding that had never been seen ever before – although it really wasn't all that different.

Because of tradition, I decided that the wedding would be on a Wednesday – hoping that the rhyme was right about it being the best day of all. Finally we sat down and looked at the calendar. The invitations had to be delivered two weeks exactly before the wedding. That meant no early January marriage.  To be safe, we decided on the last Wednesday of the month – January twenty-fifth. Trish smirked and said she already knew that for a fact, but wouldn't explain why. Friends could be such a pain.

When we were getting ready to leave for home, I promised to keep in contact with Holly and Trish often, and they promised to come to Town to help me finalize everything. But before Sherlock and I left, I had a question that needed answering. After searching for about ten minutes, I finally found Dad in the library looking at one of the few remaining pictures of mom – one that Sherrinford had given him out of the treasures that had once belonged to Mom. I started to leave, in hopes that I hadn't disturbed him. I quickly learned where Sherlock got at least some of his observational skills. "Come in child."

"Hey Dad. Sorry if I'm bugging you." I felt so bad barging in on his private time. He shook his head and smiled. "You are no bother, my daughter. Come and sit down before you and my son are off to Town again. What is on your mind?"

I couldn't help but smile. There was no way in hiding the truth from dad now. "I was wondering when Sherlock's birthday is. In my time most people say that it's sometime in January, but I can't remember when." And that was the truth. Besides it would be a good idea for me to know when I can finally say Happy Birthday to my only love, seeing as Sherlock himself still wouldn't tell either Watson or myself.

Dad smiled and nodded. "I suspected as much. Sherlock refuses to tell I take it." When I nodded, Dad chuckled. "It is in January – the sixth to be precise. That day was one of the coldest in that early part of 1854. From that cold came such a fiery passionate man. And I see what kind of woman it took to tame him."

I had to blush! "I haven't tamed him Dad, only trapped him."

"You haven't trapped me, my dearest Nona. You have only enchanted me with your wiles and tenacious spirit. So, what are the two of you chatting about?" Sherlock winked at me as he took claim of the spot on the couch beside me, so that I was caught between both men. I chuckled hard. "I can see where you get your wit."

Dad shook his head. "No, my daughter. You future husband got that from his mother. His stubborn streak however did come from me." Even Sherlock chuckled at that, though my thought made him pale significantly. "Oh, how the terrible twos and teenage years will someday be."

Dad and I both chuckled at that. That was until dad added his two cents in. "His stubborn streak and your wiles. Oh, the grandchildren you two could make for me." I shook off the initial shock with a remark of my own. "Dad, are you suggesting something long before the wedding?"

Sherlock and I both chuckled as Dad blushed hotly. "Don't get any ideas you two. I want nothing bad said about my son or daughter-in-law or future grandchildren."

I looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "I see that Dad is already making plans for us."

***

**_Trish_** –

I couldn't believe that I was stuck in bed, being waited on, with nothing but my writing to keep me busy (other than my numerous visitors that first couple of days). What had once been a secret dream was now an official nightmare! I couldn't wait to get better after the first hour of this treatment.

Nona was cracking up laughing at me, but I knew she was happy to have me here on a permanent basis. Besides, I never knew what it was like to actually not have traffic honking and raucously filling the night air. The air was cool and peaceful, and I easily saw why Nona would like this country life. I couldn't wait to see what London was like in this era. Nona and I had visited there once our senior year of high school, but she assured me that it was a very different place from what I remembered.

I was gleaning some information for one of my badly ignored Vampire Diaries fan fic stories when **_he_** came in to visit me with Virgil. Mycroft was an interesting man. He offered to introduce me to London once I felt up to it. He tried to put it off as his honor, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that seem to make me think otherwise.

Virgil begged me into reading him one of my fan fics. I was embarrassed, mostly because I had never read any of my works to anyone outside of Nona. I started to argue that point when both uncle and nephew together gave me the worse set of sad faces (adding on the kid's "Pretty, pretty, pretty please Ms. Trish"). How could I say no?

I read one of my finished Labyrinth fics that was a 'G' rating. Then, so the pair understood, I read the story version of the movie I wrote out (the book was too different for this particular fic). Virgil dozed off lying next to me on the bed. He was so cute, I felt really lucky I got to do my old job with him. Being this kids official playmate was nothing less than working in the daycare I once worked at in the twenty-first century. Thankfully it was only Virgil, not twenty-six or more kids like home.

Looking up at his uncle I got a peculiar smile. "You work well with children."

"I worked at a daycare through the YMCA for nearly three years before I finally chose school over work. Too many backstabbers and not enough recognition from those above me made the job unbearable. That was why I starting going to school to be a teacher. Now I know that will be near impossible." That truth hurt something awful. Working with kids was my niche in life – what was I to do now?

Mycroft's face became so concerned. I was right about him, he was a sweet man under the weight and walls of indifference. "And why would you think that?"

I sighed. "In this age, teachers don't get enough credit, pay, or rights. And most are men. Those who are women, their lives are dictated by whatever school board hires them. And they can never marry. I learned all about it in my Introduction to Education class the last semester I went to school."

That seemed to worry him, but it didn't matter. Nothing did I guess. "I just wish I had Nona's family as my own."

"Will your family not miss you?"

"No."

"Why?"

I felt my bottom lip tremble for a moment and my eyes fill with tears, but a took as deep a breath as I could and forced the breakdown to leave me alone. "Let's say I'm not as blessed in the family department as Nona and you are. I will have to find out how she contacts those in the future. Something about an office. I should at the least tell my dad where I am and that I'm staying. He's the only one I have to write to though, and I really wonder if he'd believe it."

"You write the letter, place the address and the date it should arrive, and I will make certain it will get to him. What of the rest of your family?" His face darkened even more with worry, but I really didn't want to get into it. "Please … um … could you put this back in my bag?"

I handed over the notebook that I had read the story to them from. His face was still pensive, but thankfully he left the unanswered question alone and did as I asked. As he did he picked up a book I knew very well. "It's a good book. You can borrow it if you like."

"Vampires?" He looked at me as if he was thinking 'are you kidding?' I had to chuckle. "Give it a chance. Haven't you ever heard that you should never judge a book by its cover?"

Mycroft shook his head in disbelief, but he still pocketed book one. I think that he only did it to keep me from arguing the point with him – humor the sick girl. Why not, everyone else had in my life – with the exception of Nona. He came back and sat beside us, taking my hand into his larger one. "When you are ready."

For a moment I had no clue what he meant, and then it dawned on me. He wasn't going to press me for details I wasn't ready to give. The guy was so sweet! More so than I originally gave him credit for. I smiled and nodded. A few minutes later he took Virgil to the nursery, but I knew he'd be back. I was also certain that he would be a very good friend at the very least. But, given what I knew about this age, I doubted that we'd be anything else – ever. No one would have me, and that hurt.

Maybe it was a mistake staying here. After all, I would eventually become a leech on this family. Virgil wasn't going to stay a little boy forever. And if I remembered right, most families of wealth sent their children to boarding school in this era. What was I to do then? Write? No, that had many of the same problems as in teaching. Maybe a governess? Maybe, but I really wanted to be more open and free to come and go as I pleased. Plus I doubted I'd every get out of the becoming a spinster for life track in that profession. Beyond that what did women do to earn money in this century – outside of selling themselves?

***

**_Nona_** –

Watson had set Trish to bed rest until she was better (much to Trish's annoyance as time went on). The day after Christmas, I said my goodbyes and thanks to my friend who asked in my ear if Mycroft had anyone in his life. I wore a grin for that. My best friend from my own time was falling for my soon-to-be brother-in-law! Looked like Dad's Christmas wish just might come true, when I spotted a certain loving glance towards Trish's back. I whispered back with a chuckle, "no, a confirmed bachelor for life – that is unless you have other plans for him."

"Hey your guy was supposed to be a bachelor or snug with Watson, remember? Mycroft's a little cute, but I doubt that anything would happen between us. You know why. And we'll talk about it later, your future hubby's on his way towards us." Trish and I both winked. I wish she had forgotten that old rumor, and her past. I shook my head and turned to my love with a smile. I just couldn't see him and Watson in that position. To be honest, I couldn't see Trish with Mycroft – but hey, stranger things had happened to me before. And it would do her a world of good.

Sherlock rested a hand on my shoulder with that grin he only gave me. I didn't have to ask. He knew that Trish I and were having a private conversation. "Ready?" With my nod, Sherlock helped me to my feet. Then he bowed slightly to the woman resting in the bed. "Hope that you will feeling better soon, Ms. Young. And thank you for your help once again."

Sherlock reminded me of that first meeting I had with Virgil with how polite he was. I just hope our kids would turn out so well. I had to smile, at the vision of a younger him standing in front of us. Trish seemed to read my face. "Will you please call me Trish? Besides I know all about you two busy kids."

I took that in for a beat. And then it hit me. "You researched on your computer before you came here!"

Trish looked so smug. "Of course I did. Have lots of fun kido. I couldn't look me up because the mainframe slowed down. But I read all about the two of you – thanks to that little note that is. Majesties of …" She muttered as she settled herself down in the bed.

I had to know. "How much do you know?" Trish smirked proudly. "Let's just say that you to will be busy home and at work for a very long time. I'd think more at home than at work. But, that was just my impression." My dirty glare prompted her further. "Okay, I found your guy's marriage certificate, several birth certificates, and your guy's death certificates."

Sherlock was as in shock as I was. "What about the children. Were there any death certificates for them?" Then I remembered why he'd ask that. Kids had it rough in this century, and their death rate was very high – most kids died before they were five. Every parent feared losing their child, and often found it to be a sound fear. Trish was stunned and had tears in her eyes. "I didn't even think about looking that up. I'm sorry guys, I should have thought of that."

I shook my head. "No Trish. If Sherlock and I were meant to know when our kids die, then we wouldn't lose them, we would fight to prevent their dying. Or even worse try to not have kids, and you know I want to be a mom once in my life." Trish chuckled painfully because of her injuries. "I always told you that you wouldn't end up an old maid with dozens of cats for kids."

Sherlock looked at me funny. I hated to admit it. "That was my worse fear. To end up alone." He looked at Trish. "Will you please at the least ease her fears?"

"Sure. What I mumbled before was Majesties of Nursery Row. You two end up with a lot of kids by our time's standards." Trish used her hand to indicate her and me. I was in shock, but I think Sherlock was deeper in shock. "That is enough for us to know right now." I simply nodded in agreement. I just couldn't picture myself as a baby factory.

As we left, Mycroft nodded to her and Trish blushed as she smiled. No way was there something developing between the two of them! It would be a good thing for her, but would he accept her past. I knew Trish well enough – if something did start, she'd tell him everything. But would he accept her past or leave her go? I didn't know Mycroft well enough to know for sure either way.

Watson and Mary returned to London earlier in the day to their visit with an old friend of his from Watson's campaign days, while Sherlock and I shared a compartment with Mycroft on the next train to London. I was tired and spent a large time silently holding the hand of my fiancé. My near death still had me sore in the chest, but I wasn't sorry for it. I glanced over at Mycroft and started chuckling hard. He and Sherlock both looked at me in annoyance. "Sorry." I still couldn't hold my chuckling in very well.

Mycroft sighed in exasperation. "What is it _woman_?"

That hurt and silenced me fast. I looked out the window and curled inward. I had thought that we were almost family now, but it looked like I was wrong. I wondered if I should keep him away from Trish so she wouldn't get her heart broke once again. Sherlock on the other hand still treated me as his love, and saw my hurt. "Nona, what is so funny?" So, he took the edge off of my wounded heart. I forced myself to grin again, though the mirth was gone from my eyes. "I never thought I would see my dear _brother-in-law_ reading young adult gothic fiction."

"What is that, Nona?" Sherlock brushed my cheek with his finger. Completely out of his public character, but he was trying to ease my pain. I wasn't sure what I ever did to earn his love. "It is for teens, and usually have vampires, werewolves, and such in them." That brought a chuckle from Sherlock's throat, mirth back into my eyes, and a blush to Mycroft's cheeks – well, he deserved it.

Mycroft refused to say a word, simply returned to a book that had to be Trish's (seeing as my copy was safely tucked in my bags) – 'The Vampire Diaries volume one: The Awakening'. When Sherlock and I stole a kiss he huffed, "it is better than watching the two of you … what did Trish call it? Yes, giving one another a tonsil check."

I sputtered out the quietest chuckle I could at that moment and saw that Sherlock too was fighting off wanting to bust out in tearful mirth himself. After a few breaths I glared over at Mycroft. "Um, I think you have been hanging around Trish a little too much lately, bro. Because that is a saying I would have never expected to come out of your mouth!"

Mycroft smirked in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. "There was a few other little indulgences of future events Trish gave me. Like you dressing up like Sherlock for Halloween just the year before you arrive in this time." I began to make plans of not only killing this butterball, but big mouthed Trish as well! Sherlock raised an eyebrow at me and threw on a grand half smirk that melted me in all of the right places. "You dressed up as me? Who was Watson then?" I blushed hotter as Mycroft chuckled, "Trish. Though she was pleaded and pestered into the role it seems." He and Sherlock both chuckled hard at that. But Sherlock made it up to me by whispering in my ear, "I'm honored."

I still glared daggers at Mycroft the rest of the trip, but the embrace Sherlock wrapped around my shoulders did made me feel good. Once we made it to Charing Cross, I was calmer – I only wanted to break Mycroft and Trish in two by then. We said farewell to Mycroft and settled into a cab. Sherlock covered us both with a rug before shutting the doors, giving our hands privacy. His took mine as he gave our address. The way he rubbed and squeezed it made me wonder what the wedding night would be like. I knew for certain that he was very good at massaging me. I looked in his eyes and saw the same look he held when we got engaged. Now that we had our date set, I finally felt like I was on my way to becoming his wife.

All too soon we were home again. We were glad to find that Mrs. Hudson had finally found a new housekeeper by the name of Grace Turner. The only draw back was that she had a son of about seven years in age (do I really have to tell his name?) named Billy. Mrs. Hudson had a man come in and redo one of the larger closets into a small room for the boy. She had also moved my things into what had once been Watson's old room (with a hard look of warning towards Sherlock and I both). And so I found myself next door to my love that night. Oh, the temptations and the fantasies! But I knew that the strict woman would be beyond angry to find me in bed with my fiancé again – and Watson wasn't there to wake us up before she would come into the room. It took time but I eventually picked up a soft snoring in his room. It made me feel safe knowing that he was next to me as was possible, and would be there in a heartbeat if I were to be in trouble.

***

**_Holmes_** –

I have to admit that I enjoyed the idea of Nona in the room beside my own. However, I would let no ill be said of my angel, so I fought every urge to slip into her rooms that first night home. The temptation of holding her in my arms all night did make sleep difficult to come by. With nearly a month before our wedding day, I knew that I needed a case to keep me focused on something other then my visions of our honeymoon, and soon. Unfortunately nothing came quickly.

The last day of the year, Nona was humming 'Auld Lang Syne' off and on through the day. The next day promised to be filled with callers wishing the happiness of the season, though I would have preferred spending the day with only Nona, so I was going to go to bed early. But Nona settled on the couch with a book, even though she saw I was going to go to bed. We talked for a few hours about what she used to do on New Year's eve, and before I realized it was nearing midnight. Right on the stroke of the bells we kissed, just as her parents would every year. I prayed hard that Nona and I would be together for many such Eve's to pass us by.

A week after our return home, Nona and I were escorted into the Queen's presence for that tea she had invited us too. Thankfully the affair was as warm and casual as had been my knighting ceremony. The Queen was ecstatic about Nona's regained memories, our wedding date, and the note my love had received from her family. And then Nona began explaining about a television program (after she explained about televisions) called CSI, and how similar my work was to the program. The Queen loved the sound of it. It seemed that our monarch was interested in criminal investigations. Her Majesty also enjoyed how many police forces use Watson's writings as a lesson book for detection – though I still have difficulty with how he wrote them. Nona explained that the style of writing the good doctor used was why the tales were still very popular. Accordingly that was why her youngest brother wanted to become a police detective – so that the force would have one who was better than Lestrade. I had to laugh heartily at that, as did the Queen (it would seem she know Lestrade well – and not just from Watson's writings as it were).

The Queen assured us that she would be there at mine and Nona's wedding. As if it wasn't bad enough that we could not have a simple and private ceremony (my father's insistence of course), but the Queen would be there as well! I did not regret proposing to my angel, my only regret was my family's knowledge of it. I brushed it off, after all Nona was worth it all. Besides, I wanted all to see she was the only woman I ever wanted in my life.

Nona wanted me to be involved in the planning, but I was firm with her on this. I had never an inkling that I would ever fall in love, or marry, because of what I had thought had been my shameful secret. This was her dream … to be my wife … I wanted her to make it as she saw fit. To make her dream come true and then some – seeing as I doubted she ever envisioned the Queen being in attendance at our wedding.

A few days after Watson and Mary visited us. It seemed that the old times were as they were with simply the addition of the more intelligent than I had once gave her credit for Mary Morstan-Watson. While the ladies talked over the wedding, Watson and I talked about almost anything that came to our minds. Then we all had lunch at Simpson's and took in a concert.

The first Sunday we were home in Baker Street, Nona gave me a smile as she entered that made me slightly wary. "Good Morning  Nona. I trust that you slept well given the smile you are wearing."

"I slept very well, Sherlock. But that isn't why I am smiling." She winked and then pulled a package out from behind her back. "Happy Birthday, my Sherlock."

That had been what she had talked with Father about! He had told her when my birthday is! "You didn't have to, Nona. Having you home is my favorite gift."

"I know, but I wanted to. Now open it."

Inside was a book I had been trying to talk the bookstore owner down on price for ages, a rare old edition of "The Canterbury Tales" by Geoffrey Chaucer! I looked up at her in amazement.

"I had already bought it, but asked him to keep it where you could see it until yesterday and asked him to never bring down his price. That way you had no idea that I knew what you wanted."

Nona had stunned me yet again. "You took a risk my dear. Suppose that someone else had went in to buy it and was ready to pay the exorbitant price?" Nona smiled. "I set that price, but told him to never sell it. The owner was going to say he had sold it and was holding the item in question for today." Needless to say, that was the happiest birthday I had lived through in many, many years.

***

And not long after that I received the needed case to calm me down and focus on something other than my beautiful fiancée. One of my informants within Moriarty's gang sent me a cipher. Watson just happened to come by at the right time with gown pattern books Mary's employer had sent over for Nona to look through. "Ah Watson, good that you are here. Tell me what you make of this will you?"

He looked the paper over. It felt like the old times, as he gave me his thoughts. "It looks like a cipher of some sort."

"Excellent Watson!" I saw that my love had came into the room with that brilliant smile on her face. I knew that there were some adventures Watson and I would go about that she had not read or seen, and therefore had as much knowledge of as Watson or I. I wanted to see if this would be one such case. "Ah, my dearest Nona! What can you tell me about this note that Watson has glanced over?" 

She soon had a thoughtful expression on her face. "Sherlock, I have no idea. Douglas and Birlstone do sound familiar, but I haven't the faintest clue as to what happens." She looked at a stunned Watson with a gentle smile. "Watson, how did you think I knew you and Sherlock right from the start? I have read a lot of your stories. But this is one I don't think I have read, sorry Sherlock the two of you won't get any help from me."

"Perhaps we might. If the wedding plans can spare you a few days? And Watson, if your new practice could spare you as well?" I missed the days when asking them to join me wasn't necessary. They were always there – ready, willing (and occasionally demanding) to join me.

Both agreed and I went on. "It is Porlock's writing, I can hardly doubt that it is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only twice before. The Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be something of the very first importance." They may have thought I was talking to myself, but both my friend and love were wrong. I was watching them.

Watson started the ball rolling. "Who then is Porlock?" Nona added in half to herself, "sounds like a cover name."

If she only had the slightest idea of how proud she had made me of her in that moment. Nona had just proven how sharp a wit she had, which was the first item to grab my attentions and my heart. "Quite so, angel. Porlock is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification mark; but behind it lays a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion – anything that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable: not only formidable, Watson and Nona, but sinister -- in the highest degree sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?"

Watson nearly caused me to blush when he muttered, "the famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as --"

"My blushes, Watson!" That made my angel chuckle, and our world was once again completely as it once was. She settled on the sofa as Watson took up his old chair and finished his statement. "I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public."

"A touch! A distinct touch!" I cried in disbelief. My angel burst into full laughter, which made my embarrassment a little easier to deal with. "You are developing a certain unexpected vein of pawky humor, Watson, against which I must learn to guard myself." Nona smirked, "You know that you enjoyed it, Sherlock." 

I still enjoyed the sound of my public first name to my surname from her lips as much or even more so than the first day she deemed to use it. "Quite so, my dear. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law -- and there lie the glory and the wonder of it! The greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain that might have made or marred the destiny of nations -- that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solarium for his wounded character." Nona granted us a comical hand to her head and false recline against the couch in shock, with the touch of an evil smirk afterwards that brought a chuckle from both Watson and myself. "Quaint my dear. Is he not the celebrated author of The Dynamics of an Asteroid, a book that ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in the scientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foul mouthed doctor and slandered professor -- such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson, Nona. But if I am spared by lesser men, our day will surely come."

Watson exclaimed happily, "may I be there to see!" Instead of agreement in my love's eyes, Nona's were full of dread, and I noted the slight shiver in her body. A dark action between Moriarty and myself would someday happen, she knew of it and was obviously dreading it. Before I could mouth a single word Watson continued. "But you were speaking of this man Porlock."

No time to discuss it with Nona now. I went on, but filed away that information for later on. "Ah, yes -- the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little way from its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link -- between the three of us. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able to test it."

After some time Nona and Watson helped me to solve the cipher without its key. As sounding boards, they saved me hours of working out possible solutions. Our first solution made no sense, and I was thinking of any other possible clues when Nona shut the book and looked at its cover. "I'm a numbskull! Look, why would this Porlock have his hands on the newest edition of the almanac? He's probably used last year's. Sherlock where is last year's copy?"

"Right here. Now, shall we try this again? Thirteen is "There". One hundred and twenty-seven is "is" …" Before long we had the cipher. "'There is danger -- may -- come -- very -- soon -- one.' Then we have the name 'Douglas' -- 'rich -- country -- now -- at -- Birlstone -- House -- Birlstone -- confidence -- is -- pressing.' There, Watson and Nona dear! What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the green grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for two."

I saw the delight in my angel's eyes. Watson stared at the sheet of foolscap on his knee.  "What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!" Nona shook her head with a sweet smile on her face. I had to focus on the case before us, not on my angel. Though that was more difficult than I at first suspected. She chuckled so soft for a moment. "I think he did pretty good for what words he had to work with."

"Quite so, Nona dear." How I loved to say that. "When you search a single column for words with which to express your meaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. You are bound to leave something to the intelligence of your correspondent. The purport is perfectly clear. Some deviltry is intended against one Douglas, whomever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gentleman. He is sure -- 'confidence' was as near as he could get to 'confident' -- that it is pressing. There is our result -- and a very workmanlike little bit of analysis it was!"

Just then Billy opened the door and ushered in Inspector Alex MacDonald of Scotland Yard. His figure was tall and bony, yet was exceptionally strong. His head might have been large, but I suspect his heart was nearly that size – though one would have a time proving it. He was silent and precise with a hard Aberdonian accent. The Scotchman was every bit what I had been before Nona entered my life. Twice before, only once since Nona move into our flat, had he asked for my help. My allowing him to take full credit both times had earned me his respect and affection. I was happy to count him as one of my friends, and one of those who would be there as my guest at the wedding.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight of his face. I had been expecting him later in the day. "You are an early bird, Mr. Mac. I wish you luck with your worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot."

"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the truth, I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes," he answered me with that knowing grin of his. Obviously he knew I was expecting him. Dutifully as any wife, Nona offered him brandy and a cigar as he sat in the spot she vacated on the couch near Watson. "Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw morning chill. No, I won't smoke; I thank you. I'll have to be pushing on my way; for the early hours of a case are the precious ones, as no others know better than the three of you. But -- but --" Mac stopped and gawked at the paper Watson had written the message out on. I was right; he was here about the same case I was hot on! "Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful did you get those names?"

"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson, Nona, and I have had occasion to solve. But why -- what's amiss with the names?" I already knew, but I wanted Mac's information before saying anything. He looked at each of us for a moment before stunning me and obviously my companions as well. "Just this," he said, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was horribly murdered last night!"

So began an interesting case that Watson would later entitle 'The Valley of Fear'. I never mentioned it to him in person, but that one tale was one of the better accounts Watson wrote – given that so much had been twisted and refurbished so that Nona completely vanished – because she helped so much.

Nona insisted on one last case together as the team we made before she and I got married, as Watson had 'The Sign of the Four' himself. So I visibly relented on her accompanying Watson, myself, and Mac to Birlstone. The truth was I was glad to have her on my arm. Like Watson, she was a treasure to me – and, by her own explanation, her intuition was a great service to me. And in this case she proved it to be just so. Though I learned to pay more attention to her than any other woman as well.

***

**_Nona_** –

When Mac (as he insisted on Watson and I to call him) said that the C.I.D. all believed that Sherlock had a bee in his bonnet over Professor Moriarty, the guy was beyond right. I was terrified. This was the case that my brother and I thought really put the Professor onto Sherlock. With our wedding so near, I was scared that no precautions would keep me safe from the Napoleon of crime or his right hand man. And that losing me might make Sherlock careless, meaning the world would lose him too soon. Mac went on to say he thought that the Professor was just as Moriarty wanted the world to see him. I had the urge to tell Mac that not everything is as it seems, but then I would have to explain it all to the three of them – altering the time line too much.

It was obvious from the look in his eyes that Sherlock would be asking me some hard questions the next time we were alone. But, I knew that if I were to give him any facts whatsoever – it could change how our lives go – I could really lose him. Three short years left to go, and then a three-year wait for his return. I wasn't sure how I'd survive it while he was away.

Sherlock and Mac talked about a painting that was critical in proving that the Professor was not as upstanding as was previously thought. It was called 'La Jeune Fille a l'Agneau', painted in 1865 by an artist named Greuze. At the Portalis sale it had been sold for a million two hundred thousand francs, which comes to more than forty thousand pounds. However the Professor's yearly salary was only seven hundred pounds. At that rate it would have taken Moriarty over fifty-seven years to come close to buying it! And then Sherlock talked about the three times he was in Moriarty's rooms. The idea of him in such dangerous territory made my skin crawl again.

Sherlock pointed out that Moriarty couldn't have afforded the painting – he wasn't married, and his younger brother was a mere stationmaster in the west of England. If Moriarty had that kind of money, there was no way he could have gotten it legally. Sherlock had other leads that proved the same conclusion, but that was the easiest to explain off hand. Sherlock pointed out that Moriarty was simply the newest form of the criminal Jonathan Wild – the brains of the business of organized crime in London. It reminded me of the day I solved my first case, he told me that there was nothing new under the sun, because it had all been done before. I guess that he was right, only at each incarnation the mastermind becomes more brazen and has less respect for life than the last. I could help by think of September eleventh 2001, and what that far away day would bring. It hurt that I couldn't save those people, but who would believe any note that I'd send and who could I send it too?

When Sherlock brought up Colonel Sebastian Moran and his pay I wanted to growl, but was content to keep my jaws tightly shut. To think it would be that man who would keep my only love away from me for three years! I could hardly wait for the night to come that Moran would be arrested. I wanted to be there for that night. He might be paid for his brains (and sharp shooting skills), but Moran had little instinct – and it was nowhere good as mine.

Then we talked about the various bank accounts Moriarty uses to pay his bills. It impressed Mac, and me to a point. I knew that my fiancé was the world's greatest consulting detective, but he had gone well out of that realm this time. I fought and lost the battle to keep the smile from my face. But when Sherlock started putting theories into the open I smirked. "Sherlock, whatever happened to it being dangerous to theorize in advance of the facts?"

"My dear Nona, the only theories in my mind for the time being are those that fit the current facts. It is down at Birlstone that we must seek the solution and discover which if either of the theories are true." Sherlock smiled over at me with eyes of soft gray metal. I think that he enjoyed it when I'd pin him by his own words and he'd slide out of my trap. Can't say married life would be dull for us if our current life was any indication.

"Then to Birlstone we must go!" Mac jumped from his chair and gapped at the time. "My word! It's later than I thought. I can give you, gentlemen, five minutes for preparation, and that is all."

"And ample for us both," Sherlock smiled at me. It was as if he was daring me to argue with him. For a split second I was going to disappoint him by keeping silent, but I hadn't read this adventure as far as I knew. The truth was I'd rather live them than read them with the public later on. So, I firmed my stance and glared at him. "You do mean all three of us, Sherlock - right?"

He grinned with what I thought was a slight sign of relief. He really wanted me there. That warmed my heart, as did his words. "Of course my dear. I know that when it comes to you, Nona, nothing will stop you. Mac you did hear of how Nona has cajoled me into marrying her?"

"Cajoled you? I think it was you who asked me, Sherlock. That is in your own unique way." Watson chuckled at our playful banter, while Mac down right laughed. "I won the bet!"

Sherlock and I both stared at the man in shock. Watson shook with all of the laughter escaping his body. Finally I took the initiative. "Who exactly was betting on us and what was the bet?"

"The entire force has been betting on when you two would hook up! Ever since you solved that McGregor murder case. Everyone had always said it would take a sly detective to hook Mr. Holmes. Ha, I even beat out Lestrade! He thought that he'd be the first to hear about it!" Mac chuckled.

I'll admit it; that brought a smile to my face. Even Sherlock grinned as he winked at me. "Well, glad to hear of it. Any other bets we might help you on?"

Mac cleared his throat. "Well, I am the earliest on the possible date bet – first of the year through Valentine's Day. Everyone else says that it was too obvious."

I grinned up at Sherlock, who had stood and moved to stand behind my chair, and caught his slight nod. "Mac, you've done it again. Last Wednesday of the month." He yelped in his excitement. But there were other things we had to consider. "And I believe we have very little time to get ready, gentlemen."

"Quite so, my dear Nona. While we are on our way, Mr. Mac, I will ask you to be good enough to tell us all about it." Sherlock directed as he changed from his dressing gown into his coat. I simply changed dresses, threw a few things (including Bernie) in a couple of bags, grabbed a hat, and let Sherlock slip my coat onto my shoulders in record time. As I expected, he already had his bags packed and waiting for mine. There was very little that Mac knew of it, but Sherlock brightened at it all. I think the waiting for our wedding day (and really that night as well) wasn't just irking only me. Sherlock was relaxed on the cab ride more than he had been since we decided on our date.

Mary had a couple of bags packed, sent, and waiting on Watson at Charing Cross. In our compartment of the train, Mac went over the case as he understood it. A friend of Mac's by the name of White Mason had requested not only Mac and Sherlock, but Watson and myself as well! This was what the letter stated.

"Dear Inspector MacDonald;

Official requisition for your services is in separate envelope. This is for your private eye, his doctor friend, and that female associate of theirs. Wire me what train in the morning you can get for Birlstone, and I will meet it – or have it met if I am too occupied. This case is a snorter. Don't waste a moment in getting started. If you can bring Mr. Holmes and his entourage, please do so; for he will find something after his own heart, and a case that might use some of that McGregor gemstone woman's looking after. Also I would like that doctor's opinions on the man as well. We would think the whole thing had been fixed up for theatrical effect if there wasn't a dead man in the middle of it. My word! It is a snorter."

I have to say, I felt proud. This guy had never met me, but asked me to help on a case – in an era where women were seen and rarely heard, that is a big deal. I saw the pride twinkling in Sherlock's eyes as he glanced over at me. His remark only made my pride soar even more. "Your friend seems to be no fool."

"No, sir, White Mason is a very live man, if I am any judge." Mac was looking at me with pride as well. So too was Watson. I couldn't help but smile at this attention, and had to focus these men back on the task at hand. "Well, have you anything more?"

"Only that he will give us every detail when we meet." That seemed odd to me. Too Watson as well it seemed. "Then how did you get at Mr. Douglas and the fact that he had been horribly murdered?"

"That was in the enclosed official report. It didn't say 'horrible': that's not a recognized official term. It gave the name John Douglas. It mentioned that his injuries had been in the head, from the discharge of a shotgun. It also mentioned the hour of the alarm, which was close on to midnight last night. It added that the case was undoubtedly one of murder, but that no arrest had been made, and that the case was one that presented some very perplexing and extraordinary features. That's absolutely all we have at present, Mr. Holmes. Soon to be Mrs. Holmes." Mac nodded at me with a smile as I blushed hotly. "You are enjoying this too much, Mac."

"And he is not the only one. With your permission, we will leave it at that, Mr. Mac. The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane of our profession, as my charming fiancée so quaintly pointed out back at Baker Street. I can see only two things for certain at present -- a great brain in London, and a dead man in Sussex. It's the chain between that we are going to trace." Sherlock sat back and took my hand in his own as he began to look at the chain for the weak link. I just looked at the passing countryside. For those who have not read the story Watson wrote, I thoroughly recommend it, for I will not go into great depth any further.

When Sherlock made his point about the curtains, I was the one who verbalized that someone had to have been hiding behind them. Sherlock used a light and proved my deduction true. And when the brand on the dead man's right arm was found, I was sure that I had seen a movie that fit this crime scene, but remembering the liberties Hollywood would someday take, I decided to go with the facts as I had them before me. The missing wedding ring had me stumped for a time.

I was glad to meet Mr. Mason a time later. "A real downright snorter, Mr. MacDonald! We'll have the pressmen down like flies when they understand it. I'm hoping we will get our work done before they get poking their noses into it and messing up all the trails. There has been nothing like this that I can remember. There are some bits that will come home to you, Mr. Holmes, and perhaps to you as well, Miss Brown, or I am mistaken?" When I smiled and nodded, Mr. Mason continued. "And you also, Dr. Watson; for the medicos will have a word to say before we finish. Your room is at the Westville Arms. There's no other place; but I hear that it is clean and good. The man will carry your bags. This way, gentlemen and Miss Brown, if you please." In a total of twenty minutes we were in the parlor of the inn, being treated to a rapid sketch of those events that had brought us to Sussex.

Sherlock sat engrossed, obviously the case was helping him get his mind off of me – for only the mean time at least. I wasn't sure if I should or shouldn't be offended by that. Once the story was over, he said.  "Remarkable! Most remarkable! I can hardly recall any case where the features have been more peculiar."

"I thought you would say so, Mr. Holmes," White Mason said with a twinkle in his eyes. And it was just that.

When Sherlock spotted the one dumb-bell, and Ames said that there might have only been one I found it strange. Even in my time, they were always sold as a set. Why would a man only buy one? I asked Sherlock that and he only repeated what he had said earlier. "Suggestive." And lapsed into his thought processes. I had mine going as well – that Ames knew more than he was telling.

The talk with Mrs. Douglas was interesting. She seemed very deeply effected. Wanting to know if we knew anything yet, but her voice was frightened. I couldn't help but wonder what she was hiding. When she was asked about how she knew that her husband had danger hanging over his head, she looked at me and smiled peculiarly. "Can a husband ever carry about a secret all his life and a woman who loves him have no suspicion of it?" I had been careful to hide my engagement ring reversed beneath my kid glove to hide the impression of the stones in the fabric, and gave no outward signs – so how could this woman even suspect the truth? Unless she was trying to match Sherlock with me.

Watson and I began to look about the garden for clues, when we heard a man talking and a woman giggling. Walking around a hedge we came upon Mrs. Douglas (the giggler) and Barker (the male voice). That made my blood run cold. That this woman, who was not even a widow for one day, was giggling as if nothing was wrong. The pretense from her interview earlier was gone, and she looked as if it was an average day in her life! They went back to their masks and characters once they realized that Watson and myself had spotted them. A few hurried words between them, and the man came up to us. I made sure my feelings were plainly clear. "Excuse me, but am I addressing Dr. Watson and Miss Nona Brown?" Watson bowed and I nodded, his feelings of distaste were clear as well.

"We thought that it was probably you, as your friendships with Mr. Sherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over and speaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?" He asked us. I nodded to Watson, wanting to get all the information I could for Sherlock. It was happening just like in that movie! I had hoped that the film industry would have been adding on in that scene, but I was terribly wrong. If only I could remember it all!

"I fear that you think me callous and hard-hearted." Mrs. Douglas said. I had to hold back my hate at that point. Thankfully Watson saw this and answered so I could calm down a bit. ''It is no business of ours."

Before I could speak the 'widow' continued. "Perhaps some day you will do me justice. If you only realized --"

Barker interrupted quickly.  "There is no need why Dr. Watson or Miss Brown should realize, as he has himself said, it is no possible business of his. And it is therefore no business of hers." I was not about to take that. "What is my business is my decision alone Mr. Barker, and I would kindly thank you to remember that."

"Exactly," Watson said, "and so I will beg leave to resume our examination walk."

"One moment, Dr. Watson … Miss Brown," Mrs. Douglas cried out. I swear she seemed afraid at that moment. But I couldn't wipe the image of her laughter from my mind. "There is one question which you two can answer with more authority than anyone else in the world, and it may make a very great difference to me. You know Mr. Holmes and his relations with the police better than anyone else can. Supposing that a matter were brought confidentially to his knowledge, is it absolutely necessary that he should pass it on to the detectives?"

"Yes, that's it," Barker said all too eagerly. "Is he on his own or is he entirely in with them?"

Now this was interesting. Before I could say a word, Watson answered tersely.  "I really don't know that I should be justified in discussing such a point."

"I beg -- I implore that you will, Dr. Watson! I assure you that you will be helping us -- helping me greatly if you will guide us on that point." Mrs. Douglas begged. I sighed. "Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator."

Watson clarified my statement with a curious look on his face towards me. "He is his own master, and would act as his own judgment directed. At the same time, he would naturally feel loyalty towards the officials who were working on the same case, and he would not conceal from them anything that would help them in bringing a criminal to justice. Beyond this I can say nothing, and I would refer you to Mr. Holmes himself if you wanted fuller information." A tip of his hat later, we were walking away from the couple. "Nona…" he started, but I didn't let him finish.

"Watson, I did see a movie about this case! It was so long ago that I have forgotten the finer details. But that was not everything it appeared to be. I think that we had better get back to Sherlock and fast."

We reported the confrontation to Sherlock who was firm. "I wish none of their confidences."

I shook my head. I couldn't remember what was important about it, but I knew that something wasn't as it seemed with this case. "Sherlock, please trust me."

Sherlock just shook his head and took my hands into his own. "No confidences, Nona dear; for they are mighty awkward if it comes to an arrest for conspiracy and murder."

That surprised Watson, not more so than I. He stepped forward, reminding Sherlock of his presence. "You think it will come to that?" We sat down to high tea and ate well. "My dear Watson, when I have exterminated that fourth egg I shall be ready to put you in touch with the whole situation. I don't say that we have fathomed it -- far from it -- but when we have traced the missing dumb-bell --"

"The dumb-bell!" Watson gasped, but I myself saw that one coming. "Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated the fact that the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell?" Sherlock shook his head and smiled. "Well, well, you need not be downcast; for between ourselves I don't think that either Inspector Mac or the excellent local practitioner has grasped the overwhelming importance of this incident. One dumb-bell, Watson! Consider an athlete with one dumb-bell! Picture to yourself the unilateral development, the imminent danger of a spinal curvature. Shocking, Watson, shocking! Nona, did you note the seriousness of the missing dumb-bell?"

"I saw it. Sherlock, I'm sorry about earlier. I think that I did see a movie about this, but it was so long ago I completely forgot it until certain facts tugged at my memory." I looked at my cup as he sighed. "As you said yourself, love, it was a long time ago, and you had forgotten it. So, what do you think about the dumb-bell mystery?"

That eased my heart. I never wanted to disappoint this man. "Depending on if Hollywood was fiddling with the story, I think I know where it is. But the rest I only have a theory on, because I don't really remember the entire movie."

For a moment that surprised Sherlock and Watson both; and then Sherlock took a bite off of his toast. Seeing him chowing down like that told me he had the case wrapped up. But I cleared one fact. "If I had remembered, I would have stayed away. I don't want to be in the way, and I don't want you two dependant on my information to solve cases."

"Nona, I will assure you that will never be the case. I would like to have you along on a case, even if it is only to be sure you keep me on track." Sherlock smiled at my blush, and Watson was shaking in his pent up mirth. After a moment I moaned out, "what am I going to do with the pair of you teasing me like that all of the time?" That brought out a mischievous sparkle in Sherlock's eyes; I wasn't about to let him say what he had in his mind – not yet, and not in front of company ever. "Never mind. So, what do we do next?"

"We set down what we know at this time. Perhaps that will bring back more of your missing memories, Nona dear." Sherlock grinned, and then set the facts before Watson and myself. I couldn't believe how quickly I remembered what few parts of the movie I still hadn't recalled.

Watson shook his head. "I am convinced myself that there is an understanding between those two people. She must be a heartless creature to sit laughing at some jest within a few hours of her husband's murder."

"I know that Watson, but …" I tried to add, only to have Sherlock interrupt me. "Exactly. She does not shine as a wife even in her own account of what occurred. I am not a whole-souled admirer of womankind excluding our Nona, as you are aware, Watson, but my experience of life has taught me that there are few wives, having any regard for their husbands, who would let any man's spoken word stand between them and that husband's dead body. When we marry, Nona, I should hope to inspire you with some feeling that would prevent you from being walked off by a housekeeper when my corpse was lying within a few yards of you. It was badly stage-managed; for even the rawest investigators must be struck by the absence of the usual feminine ululation. If there had been nothing else, this incident alone would have suggested a prearranged conspiracy to my mind."

"Sherlock  …" I sighed only to be again interrupted by Watson! "You think then, definitely, that Barker and Mrs. Douglas are guilty of the murder, Holmes?"

Sherlock shook his pipe at Watson, and I gave up. "There is an appalling directness about your questions, Watson. They come at me like bullets. If you put it that Mrs. Douglas and Barker know the truth about the murder, and are conspiring to conceal it, then I can give you a whole-souled answer. I am sure they do. But your more deadly proposition is not so clear. Let us for a moment consider the difficulties that stand in the way. 

"We will suppose that this couple are united by the bonds of a guilty love, and that they have determined to get rid of the man who stands between them. It is a large supposition; for discreet inquiry among servants and others has failed to corroborate it in any way. On the contrary, there is a good deal of evidence that the Douglases were very attached to each other."

At that point I got up and stood by the window looking down at the moat. I had never felt so invisible in my life, and it hurt. It was as if I had stayed at Baker Street and astral planed myself here. I could have sighed hurtfully to get their attentions, but I decided that maybe they didn't need me on this case. Or maybe Sherlock noticed that I knew more, and wanted to keep my promise to myself by not allowing my input. I just stood there silent as they sipped their tea. Mine didn't feel as warming as it had only a moment before. Watson shook his head at Sherlock's last statement. "That, I am sure, cannot be true."

"Well at least they gave that impression. However, we will suppose that they are an extraordinarily astute couple, who deceive everyone upon this point, and conspire to murder the husband. He happens to be a man over whose head some danger hangs --" Sherlock emphasized his point. Neither had yet noticed that I had left the table and was standing by the window with my back to them.

"We have only their word for that." Watson pointed out. Unlike myself Sherlock took this bit of information in. God, how that hurt! "I see, Watson. You are sketching out a theory by which everything they say from the beginning is false. According to your idea, there was never any hidden menace, or secret society, or Valley of Fear, or Boss MacSomebody, or anything else. Well, that is a good sweeping generalization. Let us see what that brings us to. They invent this theory to account for the crime. They then play up to the idea by leaving this bicycle in the park as proof of the existence of some outsider. The stain on the windowsill conveys the same idea. So does the card on the body, which might have been prepared in the house. That all fits into your hypothesis, Watson. But now we come on the nasty, angular, uncompromising bits which won't slip into their places. Why a cut-off shotgun of all weapons -- and an American one at that? How could they be so sure that the sound of it would not bring someone on to them? It's a mere chance as it is that Mrs. Allen did not start out to inquire for the slamming door. Why did your guilty couple do all this, Watson?"

Watson thought hard for a moment. I knew the answer, but I refused now to tell it. Not after being ignored for so long! "I confess that I can't explain it."

"Then again, if a woman and her lover conspire to murder a husband, are they going to advertise their guilt by ostentatiously removing his wedding ring after his death? Does that strike you as very probable, Watson?" Sherlock pointed out and Watson dutifully noted it. "No, it does not."

"And once again, if the thought of leaving a bicycle concealed outside had occurred to you, would it really have seemed worth doing when the dullest detective would naturally say this is an obvious blind, as the bicycle is the first thing which the fugitive needed in order to make his escape." Sherlock further pointed out to our friend. Poor Watson knew then his theory was off. "I can conceive of no explanation."

"And yet there should be no combination of events for which the wit of man cannot conceive an explanation, simply as a mental exercise, without any assertion that it is true. Let me indicate a possible line of thought. It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth? As Nona herself has proven by her being here … Nona, is something wrong?" Sherlock asked finally. It had been about five minutes I had been standing there alone. "Nothing." I barely kept the hurt out of my throat, or so I thought.

Sherlock wouldn't let this go. "Then why do your voice and body stance tell me otherwise?" Now I was fighting the urge to yell at the guy and throw his mother's ring back in his face. I wasn't going to turn into some frou-frou Victorian woman crying for attention. That wasn't my style, and obviously I wasn't needed. "I am simply listen to your two's theories." Watson too sounded worried about me. "Why not tell us what you think?"

A heartbeat later I heard a cup and saucer return to the table heavily, and Sherlock's chair scrape the floor. He obviously figured it out. "That's because we continually interrupted you. Forgive us, Nona?" This time I didn't say it out loud, but I did think it 'No shit Sherlock'. I felt him stand behind me and rub my arms soothingly. I myself wasn't ready to turn around because, I felt the familiar stinging sensation there in my eyes and it wasn't gone yet. Sherlock turned me to face him and saw the tears I was fighting in my eyes. And I thought I was stronger than this. "Nona, forgive me." His thumbs rubbed away the salty drops as they started to escape my eyes. I love him so much, but he was really hurting me. Was this going to be how our marriage would work? Could I live with that? And then I saw the pain and fear and tears in his eyes. His fear of my leaving him had returned with a force. Finally I nodded as he pulled me into his embrace. "Thank you my one and only." He whispered in my ear. That had been the first time I could remember Sherlock ever calling me that. In fact that was the first apology he had given me directly without being prompted. If he only realized how much that meant to me. Looking in his eyes, I saw he had a small clue how I felt.

For several moments we stood there, until I chuckled. "You know that I would never act that way if I ever lost you, right?" I looked up at him as the truth returned to my aching heart. Soon I would loose him. How could I live without him … even for a day? When he nodded and kissed my forehead I knew a part of me would die and not be revived until he was safe in my arms and Moran was tucked in jail. Sherlock's sweet voice brought me back to the present. "So, what is your theory?"

He really was sorry for hurting me, and – knowing how most women in his time would act – was scared I'd leave him. I hugged him back and kissed his cheek lovingly. "Can I hear your theory first?" When I smiled, his fear was dispensed with for the mean time. Our third fight (first as an engaged couple) was over with. We sat down and Sherlock continued the discussion. "We will suppose that there was a guilty secret, a really shameful secret in the life of this man Douglas. This leads to his murder by someone who is, we will suppose, an avenger, someone from outside. This avenger, for some reason, which I confess I am still at a loss to explain, took the dead man's wedding ring. The vendetta might conceivably date back to the man's first marriage, and the ring be taken for some such reason.

"Before this avenger got away, Barker and the wife had reached the room. The assassin convinced them that any attempt to arrest him would lead to the publication of some hideous scandal. They were converted to this idea, and preferred to let him go. For this purpose they probably lowered the bridge, which can be done quite noiselessly, and then raised it again. He made his escape, and for some reason thought that he could do so more safely on foot than on the bicycle. He therefore left his machine where it would not be discovered until he had got safely away. So far we are within the bounds of possibility, are we not?"

"Well, it is possible, no doubt," Watson warily said. Then I added in, thankful that they both looked at me and actually listened. "However, possible does not make it so."

"Quite right, my dearest Nona." And then he continued, taking my hand in his as he spoke. "We have to remember, Watson … Nona, that whatever occurred is certainly something very extraordinary. Well, now, to continue our supposititious case, the couple -- not necessarily a guilty couple -- realize after the murderer is gone that they have placed themselves in a position in which it may be difficult for them to prove that they did not themselves either do the deed or connive at it. They rapidly and rather clumsily met the situation. The mark was put by Barker's bloodstained slipper upon the window- sill to suggest how the fugitive got away. They obviously were the two who must have heard the sound of the gun; so they gave the alarm exactly as they would have done, but a good half hour after the event."

"And how do you propose to prove all this?" Watson asked. Sherlock sat back and slid on his hunter's mask, the one I had seen him wear before when set on the scent of a difficult case and was nearing the end of it. "Well, if there were an outsider, he may be traced and taken. That would be the most effective of all proofs. But if not -- well, the resources of science are far from being exhausted. I think that an evening alone in that study would help me much."

"An evening alone!" Watson was stunned; I however could feel that Sherlock was on the right track. "I propose to go up there presently. I have arranged it with the estimable Ames, who is by no means whole-hearted about Barker. I shall sit in that room and see if its atmosphere brings me inspiration. I'm a believer in the genius loci. You smile, friend Watson. Well, we shall see. By the way, you have that big umbrella of yours, have you not?"

That I knew was coming out. I remembered that from the movie! Watson nodded. "It is here." Sherlock chuckled shortly as he did when things were going his way, a chuckle that always made me smile – as he was visibly happy to see had done just so. "Well, I'll borrow that if I may." Watson saw it the wrong way. "Certainly -- but what a wretched weapon! If there is danger --"

"Nothing serious, my dear Watson, or I should certainly ask for your assistance. But I'll take the umbrella. At present I am only awaiting the return of our colleagues from Tunbridge Wells, where they are at present engaged in trying for a likely owner to the bicycle." Sherlock waved the help offer away, and then glanced almost worriedly at me. "We have yet to hear your theory, Nona dear."

"Well, I think that we seem to be on the same track of mind. The only difference is, I doubt that what Watson and I saw was exactly as we first interpreted it." Watson gaped at me a moment, "Nona, really."

I wasn't the only one to hold out my hand; Sherlock had agreed to let me say my piece and was living up to our agreement. Watson nodded and I continued. "The ring and dumb-bell are critical. I already know that you suspect at the least exactly where I believe the dumb-bell is. I will let you continue your investigation in that aspect with only one thought – I believe that you are on the right track. Why would they only take his wedding ring? I doubt that it was for proof, because it is too easy to fake. I remember that in the movie it was a critical clue. Gentlemen, I doubt that Mr. Douglas is dead." Watson scoffed the idea immediately, while Sherlock sighed and winked at me. That had been the heart of his theory! Watson shook his head. "Nona, what about the body?" I shrugged my shoulders. "That was the man sent to attack him."

Sherlock smiled. "You remembered that part of the movie plot?" I nodded with a shy smile on my face. So it wasn't a theory, big deal! I was keeping him on track! Watson wasn't so easily convinced. "Nona …" I shook my head. "It would fit with the facts."

To make this long story short (I know – too late ^_~) we were later introduced to Mr. Douglas and told his long story. Watson bit down on some humble pie and apologized to me. And the three of us accompanied Mac back to London, where we all split up at the train station. In the cab, Sherlock took my hand and I smiled. But the look on his face told me that he wasn't going to back down. "Nona, I want to know what bothered you at the start of this case."

"Sherlock, it's a story I read. If I tell you why it bothers me things could change and I'd possibly lose you forever." My smiled disappeared, but I clung to his hand as if it was the only thing keeping him beside me. He wasn't backing down though. "Nona, what if your telling me is what saves my life?" I wasn't ready to risk it all on a maybe. "And what if you take a stupid risk, and you die for it? I love you Sherlock Holmes, and I won't lose you on a maybe!"

We went into Baker Street to be greeted by Billy with the mail, and what few messages had arrived while we were away. No new cases, so Sherlock and I went upstairs. I took off my coat and changed while he stood by the fireplace. When I returned after I had freshened up he was still standing there staring at the flames. No, he wasn't going to let this go at all. "Don't you dare ask me, Sherlock."

"Nona, I can't have you suffering through your fears alone. What happened to …" I finished his thought for him, "A couple fighting their battles together? Sherlock, I can't risk it. I don't want to risk losing you forever rather than three years." I looked into the flames and tried hard not to cry as he knelt beside me. Damn, I already gave part of it away! He wasn't backing off at all, and I wanted him to know every detail. But, what if one small detail were to change? It could end his life and make me a widow for good. Finally I sighed, he would get it out of me no matter the cost. But, I would have my way in this battle. "I will tell you, **_only_** on one condition." At first I thought that he was going to argue, but he visibly consented to hear me out. "Something happens … and you are taken from me for any length of time, you will contact me with some kind of code, and I will meet you at an agreed place at a certain time **_with_** however many children we have. Promise me."

Sherlock shook his head, and started to argue, but I stopped him fast. "I don't want our children or I to become your Achilles heel. And us being left here will do just that; we will be targets used to draw you out. And even more so, I don't want our kids growing up without their father." He stood up and walked two steps away. "Nona, I wouldn't be staying in one place for long. It would be constant moving about through different countries, watching out for danger, the children would have few if any friends."

That argument wasn't going to stop me. "Isn't that how you grew up?" He turned and glared at me. "My father wasn't running for his life from unscrupulous men who would not have felt any remorse in killing a woman or children to get at him." 

I was on the verge of slapping this man silly. "Think for one second Sherlock! Say you are forced into hiding. If the kids and I stay here, what would stop the scum you are avoiding from grabbing us as bate for you?" Sherlock seemed hurt by that. I had to keep him from getting any idea that our getting married was a bad idea out of his head and fast. "Besides, other than England and that trip to France, I have never seen outside of the continental United States. And more importantly, I look ugly in black. I don't want to live in mourning for three years until you waltz back home."

Sherlock gave me one of his cocky smirks. "You are beautiful, Miss. Brown in anything slid on you. And you only need be in mourning for two years at the most." I stood up and walked over until I was toe-to-toe with my future husband with a look that I know told him that I wasn't playing around. "I don't want to be in mourning – period! We are associates, partners, will soon be a married couple, and I hope one day will be parents – in short Sherlock, we do this together. Do we have a deal?"

He stole a passionate kiss from me, almost making me forget what we were civilly arguing about. Then he looked in my eyes, and I knew that I had won. "Deal."

I gave him a bare sketch of the adventure entitled 'The Final Problem'. That he would be a hunted man in London once he got the net around Moriarty and his gang. The two biggest fish would get away, but the rest would be netted. He and Watson [as well as the kid(s) and myself now] would go to the Continent. At Reichenbach Falls, he and Moriarty would fight. Moriarty would fall to his death. Sherlock would be seen by the number two man, Moran, and become a hunted man. Then I told him about "The Adventure of the Empty House". How Watson would faint, Mrs. Hudson would be shocked, and Lestrade at first wouldn't believe that he (along with now the kids and myself) was back. About the future death of a man named Adair. How that was what prompted his return. The wax bust, Moran's air gun, Camden House, but the simile I decided to let him come up with on his own – I simply said that he would taunt Moran with some hunting idea. The smirk on his lips was priceless. Already I could see that he was pleased with the idea.

"Well, we will just have to plan out what we will do when that day finally comes." Sherlock said with a finality in his voice. I leapt into his arms and nearly sobbed with joy. He chuckled and held me tight. "After all, wouldn't want to see a beautiful woman like you in mourning. And I would miss my wife and children." The rest of that night we planned out what would happen on that far away day.

***

**_Mycroft_** –

I finished that book in a little over two days. It would have been finished in a day, however there were matters of state and the heart that claimed large amounts of time. By the time I had finished the strange book I had one conclusion – my heart was no longer my own. Trish was different from every woman I had been forced to endure by my father, brother Sherrinford (thankfully Sherlock never pushed such on me), and the Queen. She was even more different than Nona.

Yet there was that shadow of mystery about her family and the comment she made that first afternoon. '_Let's say I'm not as blessed in the family department as Nona and you are._'

If she had only met us before Sherrinford nearly got convicted for a murder he didn't commit. She might have not felt so disheartened about her family situation.

I still couldn't get the sight of her pain-filled eyes out of my mind's eye. She was hurting and I couldn't decipher why.

That Friday afternoon I found myself home again, mainly to return the book that belonged to my newest mystery. Sherrinford was stunned to find me home again so soon after my last visit, Holly (as any woman would) wore a look of knowing, and Father looked as if he was going to have a heart attack at the 'repeated change of planetary alignments'. I shook my head, but was stunned when Trish chuckled as she entered the room with a sly smirk on her face.

"Sir Siger, I'd hardly count this as a full "planetary" change. After all, Mycroft has lost I'd say around an asteroid's worth. One stone's worth at the least."

I couldn't help but grin at that. The people who were closest to me didn't see what she (a woman who had only known me a very short time) saw upon first glimpsing me. "Actually a mere five pounds. Work has been tedious as of late, and I have had to forgo my club for a time as of late."

"It does show. But that is the worse way to lose weight. Your body will feed off of your muscles first, not fat." She looked very displeased at me.

Father snorted. "Is that a fact you bring from the future?"

"Yes it is, Sir Siger." 

"I thought that I told you to call me Siger at the least, daughter." Father smirked at my stunned look. Oh, was he trying to set me onto poor Trish? What woman would want a man so set in his ways and large that his family consider him a planet – and I doubt Nona's 'butterball' comment is a flattering term either … whatever it means.

She smiled sweetly. "And I thought that I explained that I so not take to calling my elders by their given names, or dare hope to be anyone's daughter ever again."

"I wish you would just tell us why you think that, Trish." Holly sighed exasperated as she sat down.

Trish's face fell as she diverted her eyes to the floor for a moment. Suddenly she changed the subject, spying the book I had borrowed from her in my hand. "I see you got through the first book in record time. What did you think of it? A change of pace I'd suspect."

"Quite. I do not see why this Damon would go to such trouble to end his brother's existence." To be honest I couldn't see who would hurt this intense young woman. That mystery had a deeper fascination for me than the strange and childish tale I held in my hand.

Trish forced a smile on her face, though her eyes told me well the pain hidden in her depths. "That is a point you will have to read the story to figure out. Really though, I saw through to the truth about the brothers by the end of book one. Think you can handle book two?"

"I suppose. That is if you happen to not be reading it at this moment." I could see that Holly was affronted by Trish's actions, but I knew that there was a reason the woman from the future would tell me one day.

Trish came over to me and took possession of her book once again. "You can't judge a book by its cover, Mycroft. And this is a four-book story. Don't judge it because of one book. I'll be back in a few minutes with book two."

As soon as Trish retreated to her rooms Holly sighed. "I can't believe how rude she just was to me!"

"She has her reasons, Holly." I shook my head.

Sherrinford stood with his wife this time. "I have to agree with Holly, Mycroft. I mean after all …"

I knew he was going to bring up our family's generosity to her, but I didn't want to hear it. "She has been hurt deeply by someone, and she doesn't want to speak of it."

"But Mycroft …" Sherrinford was beginning to grate my nerves.

Thankfully Father interceded. "That is enough. Trish does not have to bare her soul to us. We were lucky that she decided to give up all she knew to come her and save Nona and myself."

"No one forced her to stay." Holly pointed out.

I heard a sniffle in the hall and got out of the room just in time to see Trish running back to her room – crying I had no doubt. "She heard you Holly."

"I only meant that if she didn't want to be here …" Holly had blanched and blushed in her embarrassment. 

It was no one's business but Trish why she didn't want to go back. "She has her reasons, and we should respect her for that."

After nearly three hours of talking, Holly finally convinced Trish to remain at Oakstaff. I was glad, because she was in no way ready to face the world. She was still hurt from her rescue attempt of Nona and saving grace to my father. I remained and we spoke at length in the library after I made certain that she and I were alone. It was unusual given the rules of etiquette, but then again Oakstaff was an unusual household as well. In hushed tones she decided that someone had to know her secret – someone who she felt she could trust. In over an hour she exposed her soul and opened festering wounds I suspect she had ignored for far too long. All she had suffered through in her short life stunned me. And I admit that I was appalled by her darkest secret, but I understood her reasons for the following instances of it happening. I was honored that she trusted me with such horrid secrets, and Trish told me that it felt good to have finally tell her story out right rather than slipping it into her stories. I swore myself to secrecy.

"I know that you will keep a distance from me now. I don't blame you. After all in this time women like me are not polite company to be seen with." She sighed as she stood by the fire to hide the tears I could feel falling from her eyes.

Even across the room I could feel her grief and shame in waves that threatened to drown us both. Perhaps I was beginning to sound like that doctor friend of Sherlock's, but that is the only way to explain the situation. "I don't think that you know me well enough to deduce what I will do, Trish. I suppose that you never read Dr. Watson's writings."

"The Cannon? No, that was always Nona's thing. I listened to her read a couple. One with you in it, I think it had something to do with a interpreter or something." Trish sighed.

I instantly knew that she had to be speaking of Mr. Melas who lodges on the floor above me. So, he will be getting himself into a bit of trouble. I could only wait to see what it is that he will bring to my attention, and obviously I will turn over to Sherlock – given that the Doctor will be writing an article about it.

"Perhaps you should have. I am the most unsociable man in London. That is one of the reasons I helped to found the Diogenes Club. I do not follow the strict rules of this age. Otherwise, we would not be alone in this room right now." I explained.

Trish chuckled in her pain. "You would have liked my age. No real strict rules on behavior – but a lot is lost because of that."

"I do not doubt that. However, my point is that I am not the man you fear I am. I would still like to introduce you to the city next week as we planned upon. That is if you will still like to do so?" I was happy to see her turn and look at me in shock.

Trish slowly moved from the fire to stand before me. "You mean it? Knowing all that you do about me?"

I was about to take a liberty. "Patricia, what happened to you was appalling and should have never happened. And you were not truly of your right mind to allow another's sick ideas turn you so. But will you consider one point?" When she looked into my eyes with wonder filling hers, I knew that I had my chance. "All of that has not happened. Those who have hurt you do not exist. Think of your life here a chance to make yourself into the incredible young woman I see within you."

"But, I'm not special at all."

"You saved Nona's life."

"She is my friend, and I know that she would have done it for me if our places were reversed. Besides, your brother was the amazing one when it come to that."

I had enough of her belittling herself. "And what of your saving my father's life? Sherlock didn't have a hand in that. That was of your own choice."

"He had gone through enough, and the Roger guy was scum. Besides that was my being in the right position to help – pure luck."

"And what of the joy you have brought to my family by staying with them? You have made a change in all of us." Trish looked at the floor, and I gently pried her eyes back up to meet mine. "Holly was only worried about you. Trish, you are more than those evil people you were born to could ever dream of being. And now you have a chance to find out what that is."

"Do you think I deserve that chance?" Tears were shimmering in her brown eyes, so too was hope. I nodded and was shocked when she leapt into my arms chuckling. "Thank you! Oh, sorry … um …" She slid back onto the floor and saw that I had no idea how to proceed.

I saw that she felt the need to embrace me for some strange reason. With a sigh, I let go of propriety for that time at least – if only to see her smile again. "Do what you feel you must."

Again she leapt into my arms, and I held her close. It was only a friendly gesture, a way to show her that I felt no shame towards her. "Will you accompany me to London as we have planned?"

Again Trish chuckled and looked at me with a smile on her face. "I can hardly wait for Friday to come."

Honestly neither could I.

***

**_Trish_** –

After that night I bared my soul to Mycroft in the library, I felt so clean and alive. It was as if I was born again. I know that is an awful cliché, lame saying, and unworthy of readers. Still that is how I felt. I had told him everything that I could remember, including the one secret that Nona didn't know. And he still accepted me! He still wanted me near him! He absolved me of that dark past and gave me grace to live my life as if it hadn't happened, because none of it had!

Holly again apologized for what she said, but I told her that I was going to forget it and all I hated myself for go forever. And life at Oakstaff improved dramatically for it. Watson came by to visit and check me himself that Wednesday; thankfully he gave me a clean bill of health. The trip to London was still a go! That night and the next day couldn't move fast enough.

Finally I boarded a train Friday morning bound for London. Instead of Charing Cross station, Mycroft was meeting me at Victoria. I was just excited to soon be next to him again. He was a good friend and I trusted him, but that was all. Well, we also didn't find an end to things to talk about. No uncomfortable silences – a very good thing.

I got out and walked into the station to look for my friend and was blown away by how many people there were. Suddenly I felt right at home and realized how I had missed the hustle and bustle of old NYC. I walked further in and couldn't believe how large the place was, or the ceiling. Most of the light in the place was pouring in from the skylights that were a huge part of the roof!

Before long I was relieved to find Mycroft. "Well you're looking chipper and dashing today? Is that another pound I can't account for?"

He chuckled as he led me outside and helped me into a waiting carriage. "Only a half pound Trish. But I have been following your orders and eating properly. I have been a little busy securing a surprise for you later on." He wouldn't say anymore than that. 

First we went to my hotel (and I mean hotel!). The Northumberland Hotel to be exact! I unpacked my few belongings, locked my door, and met up with Mycroft in the lobby. Then we were off for lunch at Baker Street. Nona and Holmes were glad to see us, but I'll admit that I was shocked at the difference in the true life Mrs. Hudson from the one I saw in that video Nona ruined by playing far too often. She wasn't old at all, maybe a decade and a half more than Nona and myself.

I couldn't believe I was really there – 221B Baker Street.

It was almost like that museum that Nona had dragged me too the last trip the two of us took to London, except the real sitting room was much larger. I saw the violin, the mail attached to the mantel with the penknife (no picture of Irene Adler), the chemical table (an obvious experiment going), the desks, the chairs, the sofa, even the bullet pockets that the bride-to-be growled about as she told me the story of that night.

For an hour and a half we ate and talked, I even got to meet the irregulars, and received a hug from Sarah (who was excited to see me, to Mycroft's approval it seemed)! That alone was worth the time travel. Finally, we left under Mycroft's insistence that we had an engagement to be off to. He wouldn't tell the rest or me where the two of us were going, but Sherlock had this smirk on his face that said he had a good idea if he didn't already know for sure.

We got into a cab and were whisked away to of all places Buckingham Palace! On the way in I got to meet the Prime Minister, Robert Cecil. The man took one look at me, said a few hushed words to Mycroft, bowed and walked away! Ugh! Some men in this time could learn a thing or two from the Holmes family! Like how to treat a woman.

I couldn't believe just how un-Victorian Queen Victoria was! We had a long talk and even shared high tea. I got the added plus of playing with her grandchildren. It felt like when I was a group leader for the Y again.

After that I got to see Big Ben from the inside. Mycroft told me that it was the bell rather than the clock that was called Big Ben. He never knew that Nona and I were told that on our trip to London in high school – but I wasn't about to tell him that. Then we rushed off to buy me a new dress, because that night I went to my first opera! I can't remember what it was, I was just happy to go. I know I said this before, but Mycroft certainly knows how to treat a lady – and for once I let myself finally believe that was exactly what I was.

The rest of the weekend flew by. I was sorry to pack my things (including several other new dresses), dress in my new traveling outfit, and lock my room for the last time. Mycroft too seemed rattled as we climbed into a cab for Victoria once again. This was the weekend of my life, and I had him to thank for it.

"Mycroft, thank you for showing me that I am higher than I used to hold myself as." I know it wasn't needed, but I had to say the words (even if it was only for myself).

Was that a wink and a smile? Whoa, maybe I should start visiting every weekend? He squeezed my hand and sighed. "I am only glad that you at last see the truth. Here is the second book. I will admit that I didn't see the twist that came in. Perhaps there is hope for this tale yet."

I grinned and chuckled as I handed over book three. "Just wait, it gets better."

Just as a note, mostly to myself, he didn't let go of my hand until we got out of the cab. Another point to bring up was he stood there watching my train leave until I couldn't see him anymore (maybe even longer). But we were still just dear friends … right?

***

**_Nona_** –

Things went well until near our wedding day. I was at Baker Street opening cards and letters sent to us in congratulations and celebration from friends who knew our secret. A knock on the sitting room door announced Grace's entrance. The young woman was pale, meaning it wasn't good. "A Professor Moriarty to see you Miss." She mouthed out the words, "I don't like him."

"That's alright, Grace. Ask Mrs. Hudson to send up a pot of coffee, would you?" I said as deadpanned as I could make myself. I was terrified. I knew what this man stood to lose and I know that he would stop at nothing to stop my soon-to-be husband. Moriarty entered the room gruffly. His mannerisms telling me clearly why Grace disliked him from the start. "No, need. And it would look better if you had a witness for your posterity. Miss Brown, I believe?"

"Yes. Professor Moriarty is it?" I tried to act as if I didn't know him, but Watson's description was too well done for me to not know this scum; the man who would go to his grave trying to kill my love. He smirked at me, and my blood went cold as ice for a moment. "Indeed. You are to wed an interesting man, Miss. Brown."

"Yes, Sherlock is interesting, but I doubt that you have come here to congratulate me on that." I just wanted him out of our lives.

Moriarty glared at me with snake-like eyes glazed over with hate. "An intelligent woman. Well, no less would interest a man like Holmes. Did you know he had the hardest time with mathematics as a young man?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that so? I find that it is usually the teacher and his methodology rather than the student's ability to learn that determines how well one learns certain things – math included of course."

From the look on the old man's face, Sherlock would have loved that one! "I have come to warn you that you plan to make vows to a marked man, Miss Brown. I would spare you the black grief that would surely be yours if you continue with your present wedding plans."

"The only black grief I will attain, _Mr._ Moriarty, is the day my great-grandson is forced to cope with a teacher such as my fiancé's childhood tutor. Have you any idea who that was?" I fought hard not to grin at that. At least I hope that I got the great part right, or would it be great-great? For those who haven't picked up on it, my descendent who would be the age I was when I first arrived in the 19th Century is what I was aiming for. Moriarty was still so out of the loop, though he had brains enough to know that I was insulting him.

He was not amused at all. If looks could kill, let's say that all of my family lines would have never been born. His face colored just slightly with anger, and tensed with the battle he had to have to keep his composure. After a few moments of silence, he raised an eyebrow. "I only came with your emotional welfare in mind, Miss Brown. Now I see that you and Holmes are perfectly paired for one another. Take care to remember this conversation when the day comes you first wear your black crape veil." And with that he left, and the room slowly warmed up (I hadn't noticed how cold he had made the atmosphere).

When Sherlock came home, I explained the visit from his former teacher. At first it troubled him. "Perhaps Nona …" I was not going to let him finish that idea. "Don't you **_dare_** say it! We have an agreement about the coming years, and I am **_not_** going to change my mind about marrying you."

Sherlock grinned as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me soundly on the lips before I could snap at him again. When he pulled back there was such a fire in his hard gray eyes as I had never seen before. "I would never even suggest it. I was going to suggest that we move you to North Riding until the wedding. After all, I do not appreciate my wife-to-be having callers that I would assuredly have a gun on if they were in my presence. But thank you for standing by me, knowing how dangerous a man Moriarty is."

"He threatened that I would soon be in black grief and wearing a crape veil if I marry you. I told him that change of clothing would only happen if our great-grandson had a teacher like your childhood tutor, and then I asked him if he knew who your tutor was." I admitted with a sardonically sweet smile that made Sherlock burst into laughter. "Oh Nona, you are a jewel and a treasure. If I could have only seen the look he gave for that comment!" And when I described the look on Moriarty's face, Sherlock collapsed in his chair with me in his lap. "My brave and spirited Nona Brown. I am glad you chose to remain with me."

"Stick with the best. And you Sherlock are the best of men."

***

The next day, Mycroft escorted me to North Riding. A week before the wedding, and Sherlock wouldn't be there until the rehearsal – six days away! How the time dragged slowly by. Without the sound of his snores at night telling how close Sherlock was and giving me a feeling so safety, it was hard to sleep. During the days I was only occupied with the wedding plans for so long, and afterwards I would be wondering where Sherlock was and what he was doing right then. Virgil and Trish kept me busy (when she wasn't busy talking to Mycroft) by playing games. But, when I was on my own, my mind was on him.

Virgil worked very hard on a violin piece for the wedding, and he was better than before. It seems that Trish had taken to giving the kid pointers as he played and it made it easier for him to learn, even though she had never played the violin in her life. I had to admit that between Trish and myself he had progress quite well, at least good enough that he was allowed to practice in the ballroom. Maybe someday he would play as well as his celebrated uncle. There I went thinking about him again.

All that was left for the wedding and following ball were a few decorations and a few RSVPs. Holly soundly told me the best way I could help was like with my first ball experience – stay out from under foot.

I had my final fitting for my dress which, outside of being slightly too long in the front, was absolutely beautiful! It was all in diamond white. Inside was a heavy lining that covered from my bust down except my back (daring in this age). Over that was a sheer overlay. The long sleeves were see through and had wide cuffs of the pearliest bluish white wide ribbon I had ever seen! It had a high neck in the back and a sweetheart neckline in the front that had a small hint of lace all around the edge that was accented with seed pearls. The skirt had an accordion ruffle at the bottom and beautiful rose embroidery in places. 

I felt like a Princess and could hardly hold back my tears. This was really happening. I was getting marry to a man I never wanted to be without. The only problem was my dad wasn't here to walk me down the aisle. None of my family was there. That was my only disappointment in all of this. I fought hard not to cry again. Me, Nona E. Brown, crying like a baby. Luckily, I had gone down to the woods where Darby had kidnapped me to rest from the hectic day I had. I wasn't scared of the place anymore, and really found it so peaceful and relaxing that it had become my favorite spot. The next day Sherlock would arrive, we would have the rehearsal, and then I would be moved to the St. Clair's cottage to keep Sherlock and I apart until the wedding day.

Suddenly I heard a cheerful humming and someone skipping on the branch strewn path towards me. It had to be a little girl, and I knew that humming from somewhere – I just couldn't place it. That is until that demanding little voice spoke up. "Where is **my** huggie?!"

"Oh my God! Ashley!" There was my four-year-old cousin, dressed as any other little girl of this era would be.

After the shock wore off, I grabbed her up in the biggest hug as I swung her around in my joy! A part of my family was there at least. And wait until Sherlock met his future cousin-in-law! "I missed you, Ashley!"

"I missed you more! But, I loved my Christmas presents. Can I have new dollies for my dollhouse?" She gave me her saddest puppy dog eyes, and I busted out laughing as I set her on her feet and knelt to where we were eye-to-eye. "We'll have to see angel. Are you by yourself?"

Ashley shook her head. "Uh-un, everyone came with me. Mommy got your note and the clothes and said we were coming to your wedding. Are you getting married, me Nona?"

I was stunned a moment that I barely registered her little 'me'. That was her way of saying I was hers, and it always made me smile. This time though I was too stunned to notice it. My family was here! I was on the verge of crying out of missing them so much, but they were here! "Yes, I am. Where is everyone?"

"At the house waiting for you. Auntie Kim (my mother) told me to come get you. But where's the guy! He can't marry you till **I** say he can!" Ashley stood there with her little fists planted on either hip and wore a stern look on her face. I had to chuckle at the sight. Then I figured a way around it. "Did you get a present from Sherlock Holmes?"

Ashley jumped up and down with her face lit up. "Yes, yes, yes! And she's so pretty! I love her. Her name is Christmas. Do you like it?" I grinned and nodded. Obviously she was talking about some kind of doll that was dressed in a holiday frock. I vaguely wondered if it would be me or Sherlock picking it out. And then Ashley continued. "I like him. He's so nice to me. Will he come to your wedding?"

I was doing all I could to fight off my need to laugh. "That's who I'm getting married to." Ashley giggled and cheered. "Good, you can marry him." I couldn't hold back my laughter as I thanked her for the blessing. While I laughed she grabbed my hand. "Come on, everybody's waiting on you!"

I didn't stop laughing until we made it to the back yard and I saw them all there – the family I was born to, and the family I was marrying into … including Sherlock. My sweetest dream just got better! First up was my dad. God, he looked good! He was born for this era. Dark gray dress pants, a near black shade of gray collared waistcoat, dark gray tweed morning coat, white shirt, and an ascot! That was a sight I swore I wouldn't ever see – my dad in the 19th century! "Daddy!"

"There's my girl!" He pulled me in for a big hug. It felt so good to have him back! But, how did he find me, when the only passages I knew were … oh, suddenly I saw Sherlock's smiling face and understood it completely. I mouthed the words "thank you", Sherlock just smiled and nodded at me. He had brought my family to me. God, I love that man! Dad finally put me down after a few moments embrace. "Let me see how my girl has made it in this century." He took my hand and spun me once to look. When I smiled, he grinned and shook his head. "I think you were born in the wrong time baby. Obviously this era makes you better than you ever were in the future. At least, I have never seen you smile so brightly."

"With Sherlock finally arriving, and all of you here now, I think I have more than enough reasons to let my smile glow." I chuckled out as my mom came over to me next. She was prettier than any lady I had ever seen (of course I am partial, her being my mother and all).

A long dress of ivory cotton, white lace, and beautiful embroidery. Her hair was up (a first in a very long time that I could remember). White lace kid gloves, and a beautiful hat completed the look. I was in awe. "Mommy."

She pulled me into her arms and we both had to fight off tears of joy. "I am so proud of you. Sherlock told us about that case you solved on your own." That made me shoot a dirty look at my future husband that he answered with a smirk and a wink. Come the honeymoon I was going to make him pay! "It was just similar to a story I read, so it wasn't too hard to solve."

Sherlock's smirk turned into a true smile as he proudly looked at me while my mom held me tight. It was an infectious smile I couldn't keep away from my face. Mom chuckled. "My baby has grown up on me." She pulled back to look at me. "And now you are more than I ever dreamed for you."

They all hugged me and I had never felt as loved as I did right then. My youngest brother, Kyle, brought me a bunch of stuff from my room at home. A teddy bear I got for my high school graduation. Some of my scrapbooks and photo albums. CDs, my mail (that made me laugh – especially when I found a letter from Ed MacMan say I might have already won … well that _is_ a bit obvious), and a couple of my old high school yearbooks! I noticed that one was book marked, and Kyle was looking guilty. "What did you mark, Kyle?"

"Life imitating art." His snickered. I was scared for a minute. Oh, no. Please, no! Not that! "I will make you pay, _little brother_!"

Unfortunately, that only peeked Sherlock's curiosity. "What is it Nona?" When I tried to put it down Kyle knocked the box enough to open the book on the page. Sherlock grinned and I groaned. It showed when I performed in the school's version of the musical "Baker Street". I was playing Sherlock's wife. (A/N: in the real musical Sherlock does not have a wife – but this was the school's production so I say he is allowed a wife!) Everyone had a good laugh, but Sherlock made it worse. "One would think that you were prepared for this little change of address."

"Sherlock, that kid who played you was no where close to portraying you! No one could dare hope come close – except for **_maybe_** Jeremy Brett." That made the laughter worse.

What shocked me was that Sherlock was jealous in an instant! I had to fight off my tearful mirth. "Who is this Mr. Brett?"

Kyle gasped a moment before answering. "An actor who is known for playing you! Sis' favorite one in fact."

While everyone else laughed, Sherlock kissed me – a first time in front of others! It was a proper soft peck, but it was enormous for me. Looking in his eyes, I could see that he felt the same. My cousin Heather had to put in her two cents! "Looks like it will be hard to keep them separated tonight, tomorrow, and the day after."

***

Right after the next day's supper, we went to the church and practiced. Everyone joked and goofed off and had a good time. I busted out laughing when Dad and two of my uncles (as well as my two older brothers) pulled out video cameras! Dad showed Sherlock and the other men (pastor included) how they worked. And we found places that would hide them well to tape the next night's ceremony. Steven (my younger brother who was closest to my age) promised to pull all of the footage together to make a terrific video for us. Without planning or even discussing the idea, Sherlock and I tried to get out the doors and free of it all to run off and elope. But, I think someone guessed our last minute plans. Before we could get to the doors, Trish and Mycroft blocked us to everyone's cheerful laughter. I glared at the pair, but Sherlock patted my hand. "All such favors do come full circle in time."

I knew exactly what he meant, and by their blushes I was sure that the pair before us understood him full well. It was just a matter of time.

All of the ladies and I camped down in the St. Clair's cottage, while the men returned to the main manor. Despite all of the catcalls and snickers, I was still reliving that sweet kiss Sherlock gave me at the last rehearsal for that moment in the ceremony. Oh, just to think the next night would make it legal. I couldn't get my heart to slow down for my life at that point. It was really happening, I was fulfilling my teenage dream of marrying the world's first and greatest consulting detective!

After a short time, I went to change and found that Sherlock had packed me a surprise! A beautiful red thorn-less rose and a small toy horse on top of my Bernie Flynn disguise. That was all the suggestion that I needed! In minutes I was changed and out the window. My cousins on patrol had no idea of my cross dressing, or just how sneaky that I had become since I moved into Baker Street. I walked right passed them as if they hadn't been there. In minutes I made it to the copse of trees I was kidnapped from and walked deeper in until I made it to the old Oak tree I remembered Mom telling me about. I remember the blushes and chuckles it brought out of my fiancé as I told him all my future mother-in-law told me while I was 'dead'. Standing beside it was the object of my affections and owner of my heart forever – Sherlock Holmes.

"You deduced my clue's meaning well, my sweet angel." He grinned as he wrapped me in his arms, pulled off my glasses and hat, and kissed me deep. When we stopped he pulled me tighter to him, and I breathed in his scent deeply. Once again I felt safe and loved. By the way his muscles were relaxing around me, I knew that Sherlock felt the same way. Who knows how long the two of us would have stayed there … that is if the shots hadn't rung out. They came from the St. Clair's, along with screaming. Without a word we both ran back as fast as our legs would carry us.

In the confusion no one noticed Sherlock or I arrive. The women all thought that I had been taken, while the men tried to point out the gunshots wouldn't have been necessary if I was kidnapped. Finally Sherlock got all of their attentions with a shrill high pitch whistle. Taking a breath I stepped forward. "I'm fine. But, it looks like it was a good thing I slipped out of the house."

Before I could get another word out, my mom yanked me into her arms and sobbed. I hadn't meant to scare anyone, but I also didn't take into account that anyone would attack me the night before my wedding … he wouldn't! "Sherlock, I think I know who at least ordered this!"

"As do I, my dear Nona. I don't think that the ladies are safe here on their own." He had a serious look on his face. I'd bet anything that he was contemplating what would have been my fate if he hadn't given me the way to sneak out so we could spend sometime alone before our wedding.

The women and I were escorted with our things (my wedding gown hid from Sherlock's eyes) back to the main manor. The entire way there I was in Sherlock's arms, but his muscles were tight and hard with stress. The attack had spooked him as much as it had me. He didn't relax until we were safely in the house, and then it was only just so. The ladies and I were settled in one wing while the men imprisoned Sherlock in another one. I have to admit falling asleep was easier knowing that my future husband was at least in the same building as I was, but I was scared of what might have happened if he and I hadn't sneaked to the copse. I somehow managed to dream of the following day, and how beautiful it would all be. Sherlock had asked me to shape the ceremony by how both of our times celebrated. And having Trish there helped that. With as many weddings as she set her fan fiction characters in, she had a lot of wedding knowledge. I couldn't wait for the next evening. Once we were married, I knew that I would never be as happy as Sherlock would make me – or so he promised me as we broke apart for the night.

To keep Sherlock and I separated, the ladies ate in my room that day. Before lunch I finally (with Trish's help that is) got all the ladies to loosen up. After lunch it was like a bunch of teens from the twenty-first century were hanging out (minus the clothes of course). But by then it was time to get ready.

I soaked in the tub for a good half hour, when mom brought in some shampoo, conditioner, bath gel (all three strawberry scented), a plastic sponge, deodorant, my old toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash! "Just to make you all the way ready for your special day." I busted out laughing as she slipped back out of the bathroom. Another hour and I was done.

After that it was rush time. Getting my hair and make up done (as all of the ladies had did theirs while I was enjoying my final bath as a single woman), sliding into all of the undergarments (I was so happy to have decided to wear something else when Sherlock and I left for the honeymoon), my shoes, of course the garter, and then my dress – and all of its little buttons in the back.

We decided that the wedding had to be at an untraditional time, to throw off uninvited guests (both friendly and not). So, we decided to marry just after dusk. Good old Watson got the pastor to agree by explaining that it was so the sun would set on our old lives, and Sherlock and I would greet the dawn of our new one (Nice poetic justice if I don't mind saying myself). And did it ever work! We had also told the pastor my secret (first time I ever saw a man faint). He accepted that the ceremony would have a few elements that were from a time that hadn't arrived yet (another quote from Watson – now see why I bought him that writing set?).

Still there were a few surprises I would have never expected or dreamed of!

How Mycroft pulled it off I will never know. Instead of the cart that first carried me to this place on the case that introduced me to Sherlock's family, waiting for me outside was the one and only 'Glass Coach'! And I found out that the Queen was going to ride to the church with my dad and me! That was when I started feeling the butterflies in my stomach multiply every microsecond!

A knock at the door told me that it was time. In stepped my dad. "You look stunning, baby girl. I'll bet you leave Sherlock speechless, and Watson won't think of a single word to describe you as we walk down the aisle." Now that is what I call a compliment that I couldn't help blushing at. "Thanks dad. And you look like you fit right in with this era."

Well he did! A black cutaway coat and trousers, a white tie and waistcoat, white kid gloves, and he carried a black top hat in his hand. If dad looked this good, I could hardly imagine what Sherlock looked like.

Once all of the bridal party was tucked in their two carriages, it was time to get dad and I in with the Queen. It took some doing, but we finally got me in without wrinkling my dress too badly. Before dad got in, I was able to get a good look at the interior of the coach.

The floor was covered with red velour carpet. The seats were covered with purple velvet. The ceiling was covered with white silk and had a heraldry in the center. Once dad was in and the door was shut, the white curtains were drawn nearly all of the way down. "So your fiancé can't sneak a look at you before you walk down the aisle, my dear." The Queen smiled at me as we got underway. Once I calmed down, I introduced my dad to Victoria. The two of them talked all about the future, but I was lost in my daydreams. Here I was about to become a true royal lady, marrying my wonderful knight – I was even in the Royal Coach to boot. This outdid all of my wildest daydreams combined!

It wasn't until we stopped outside the church that I came from dreaming of my wedding, to it becoming a reality. Strains of Cannon floated out of the church organ into the night. Victoria looked at me and smiled. "You are the blessed one today my dear. I remember my own happy marriage, and pray that yours too will be as mine was." And with that she climbed out of the Coach and was escorted to her seat. 

Dad and I waited for the signal that it was time for us to get out of the coach. He looked at me and smiled. "You are as beautiful as your mother on our wedding day, baby. I guess that I don't have to ask the age-old father of the bride question, but here it goes. Are you sure this is what you want, baby girl?"

"More sure that I ever have, daddy." And I was certain of it. I had no doubts that this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my days with. Dad smiled at me as if he fully expected me to say that. "Good. Let's go then."

We were given the signal, and once I was settled, followed behind my maid and matron of honor – Trish and Mary.

I finally saw Sherlock at the end of the aisle and was speechless! I thought he was the blue plate special that night he took Watson and I to the opera, now he was the most expensive meal in a ten star gourmet restaurant to the hungriest man alive! An open black frock coat, a white waistcoat and tie, black trousers, garnished with a red rose and a sprig of baby's breath and a little greenery! Oh yum!

Mycroft and Watson were dress similarly, with each wearing a bit of lily of the valley for their garnish, but neither looked anywhere as good as my Sherlock did. To the outsider he looked calm and collected, but my eyes saw differently. He was nervous and relieved at the same time. The attempt on my life the night before had done nothing to help his wedding jitters, but seeing that I was there and safe obviously helped. I could also see that he approved of my gown, as did everyone else – though it was his opinion that mattered the most to me.

***

**_Sherlock_** –

I couldn't believe my eyes! Nona was beautiful as she glided down the aisle towards me. The candle light shimmering about her, reflecting the sky blue ceiling and shinning off of the gold arches, no other woman could be as beguiling and exquisite as my beloved. I had tried to run off a creature of such beauty? How could I have been called a detective without seeing her for the goddess she was? I would have to plead insanity, for that would be the only way I could reason for ever ordering her to leave my side. When she and her father made it to the alter I was still in shock that I was lucky enough to regain she who was nearly lost to me.

I remember the emptiness my life had given me since my mother's murder. How I felt that was what I deserved – I was a bastard and it had been my fault my mother had died. If it hadn't been for the fact I loved those rooms in Baker Street, and my all too slender wallet, I might have never met Watson. Through his companionship, friendship, loyalty, and trust I relearned what it was like to care about anything – including myself. And then came my sweet Nona. I couldn't fight off the grin when I thought back to our first encounter. I can still clearly remember every detail of her wonderful body, a vision that had haunted my dreams and fantasies for over a year now.

I was scared at first. That was why I didn't want her to live in our home. She had awakened not only my normal urges, but also a place in my heart I had hoped would never awaken. The part of my heart that I had hoped had died with my mother – my ability to completely love. And then she showed me that she accepted me – even if I was a bastard. That was when I dared to hope that there could be a future for us.  I never said anything nor acted on my hopes because I felt she deserved better than me.

And then Watson pointed out the truth to me. That Nona was in love with me, not my bloodline or my name. I remember when I walked into the sitting room after another day's fruitless search worried that the worse had happened and Nona had returned somehow to her own time. Then Watson browbeat me into submitting that I would indeed beg for Nona's forgiveness, followed by his handing me her whereabouts. I would have left that instant, but Watson's warning had merit. At least I knew that Nona was safe and cared for. But I felt as if I would never get any sleep that night before going home again. Then to arrive and find that my enemy had taken her. I felt my world come apart in that one moment.

When we got her back, only to find she was suffering from amnesia with no known way to bring back her memories, I decided to take things slow. Perhaps part of her attraction to me had been the stories she had read. Now seeing how I really was, she had changed her mind about sharing her life with me. Once I saw through her words and actions that Watson's words had been true, I allowed myself to feel joy again after sixteen years of bitterness and self-hate. Nona indeed loved me for myself, all my faults included.

Now she was sealing herself to me by vows that in this era were permanent. Unlike in her day, the church frowned on any type of separation or divorce of married persons outside of death. She had given up her true time to be my one and only. I truly was a lucky man that night, and I was determined to cherish this woman with all I had for the rest of my days.

* * *

Sir Siger Alcott Michael Nathaniel Holmes

and

Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Thomas Brown

request the pleasure of your company

at the marriage of their children

Miss. Nona Ermingarde Brown

and

Sir William Sherlock Scott Holmes

* * *

Pastor Ethan Harthing never thought that he would be the one to see this day come. He was the man who baptized and confirmed all three of the Holmes boys. Now he stood there with the youngest of that trio waiting for the young man's bride to make her way down the aisle.

Harthing had aged some since the long gone days when the three boys accompanied their parents to Sunday services. His once brown hair was all silver now, and the line of it had moved back to just above his ears. But his blue eyes still shimmered with the joy of the night's occasion. His hand joints were slightly swollen with the rheumatism that ran in his family, and his back had a slight curve in it now. But, he would not have given this to any other man for his very life. He had seen this man's beginnings, and would see him through this new beginning as well.

Like many living in this small township, the Pastor had read of Sherlock's exploits written by Dr. Watson in the Strand. All were proud of the local Squire's youngest son. Harthing was also glad in his heart that father and son had finally mended whatever it was that set a rift between them. Given what he had heard about this Miss Brown, the old Pastor wouldn't doubt that she had a large part in that miracle. When she was before them he couldn't help but notice the looks each was giving the other. Yes, these two were certainly in love.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony; which is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace." Harthing waited for several beats. No one would risk the Queen's displeasure by speaking against this couple. Yet, he had to ask it as such was the law of the Church.

He smiled at the bride and groom. Obviously he had no reason to ask it of the couple, but he wanted this binding to last. So, he would follow the book to the letter. "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's Word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful." He only thought the next bit. *_The cradle most certainly is being robbed tonight, given that the grown bride isn't even truly born yet._*

He only waited half the time that he had with the first question. Harthing knew that nothing would tear these two apart, and Sherlock would be marrying this young woman even if there were any impediments that would make the marriage unlawful. Harthing smiled at the slight changes both bride and groom requested. Knowing that Miss. Brown was from a future he could not hope to live long enough to see, he was glad to see what possibilities the church had before it for himself. Harthing continued in the ceremony using both bride and groom's full names.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Sherlock hadn't taken his eyes from his bride's for a moment. With a true smile on his face, the world's greatest consulting detective spoke loud and clear, obviously so none would misunderstand him. "I will."

Harthing saw that the bride too had only eyes for her groom. "Nona Ermingarde Brown wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after Gods ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

It was an unusual vow to place upon the bride. Normally, she would be called to promise to obey and serve her husband. But, it was Sherlock's insistence that his bride not be given such vows to make. He told Harthing that was what drew him to Miss. Brown. That she was her own woman, and followed her heart. She couldn't promise such, and to make her do so would destroy the very woman that he loved. So, Harthing agreed to the groom's plea. Though he saw that many in the church that night were surprised by it. The bride had tears in her eyes, later she would tell Harthing that she had thought Sherlock was only joking and would follow tradition. She spoke as loud and clear as her groom. "I will."

"Who gives this woman to be wed to this man?"

The gentleman holding Miss. Brown's hand on his arm spoke clear at Harthing's question. Obviously the Bride's father was as pleased with this match as everyone else in the church that night. "Her mother, family, and I do."

Mr. Brown lifted the veil slightly to give the bride on last kiss on the cheek, and then rested Miss. Brown's right hand in Sherlock's – asking him to take good care of her. Sherlock nodded and agreed, though Harthing doubted that anyone had to ask the man to do so. With Harthing's lead, Sherlock bound himself to Nona. "I, William, take thee, Nona, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

And Nona bound herself to Sherlock in the same matter. "I, Nona, take thee, William, to my wedded husband, to have and hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

Handing her bouquet of flowers to her maid of honor, Miss. Brown smiled and took Sherlock's other hand as well. Watson gave the bride's band over to the pastor, and his wife, Mary, gave the groom's band to Harthing. "These rings symbolize your love for one another, as well as your commitment. They have no beginning nor end, they simply are."

Giving the bride's band to Sherlock, Harthing talked him through the pledge as the young man slid the ring easily on his bride's finger. "With this Ring I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Then it was Nona's turn. "With this Ring I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Harthing smiled as he looked at the congregation. "Let us pray." All bowed their heads, and the bride and groom knelt with their four honored wedding party members at the alter rail. Everyone prayed out loud – ever Sir Siger, who hadn't gone to church or prayed since his eldest son's wedding because he was angry with God for the death of his dear wife. Harthing was pleased to see the bride and groom had not let go of the other's hand. "Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. Amen."

Harthing took over the verbal prayer next. "O eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name; that, as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof these Rings given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Harthing rested his hand atop the couple's still joined right hands, a happier man for this remarkable night, and said. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as William and Nona have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a Ring, and by joining hands; I pronounce that they are Man and Wife, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." He smiled on the happy couple and sighed with satisfaction. Perhaps, one day, he will still be around to baptize this couple's first child. It was possible. He smiled and blessed them with all of his heart. "God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."

The six stood from the rail, and bride and groom turned to again face one another. Harthing could see as clearly as all gathered that the couple were simply waiting for his cue, in fact he heard all of the chuckles in the pews and saw pocket watches coming out of pockets. He fought off his own chuckles to finish the service. "Though I don't need to say it obviously, I will. Sherlock, you may now kiss your bride."

Reverently, Sherlock lifted Nona's veil and drunk in her face for the first time as his wife. The entire time thanking God and his mother for this angel … this goddess that accepted him in his entirety. Nona too took in all of her new husband. Her dreams had come true – even the ones she once thought were impossible. That is but the one, and she was certain they would try to make that one come true starting that night. Slowly his head dropped to hers. She breathed his scent in, and felt her heart take flight. And then the lips met. After that neither was aware of anything outside of one another, until Mycroft's chuckle broke into their world. Nona had one thought about that. *_I am going to kill that butterball!_*

She took in the soft gray pools of her new husband's eyes. Her husband. It was finally true. This was the man she would spend the rest of her days with. She clearly saw that he was happy.

Sherlock Holmes knew that he was complete for the first time in far too long as he looked down in Nona's brown eyes. She was his wife at last. His Nona. A gift that he would never finish being grateful for – even if he had eternity from its beginning to do so. He thought to himself *_I really have to stop thinking like one of Watson's stories._*

Turning out to the congregation of guests, both waited for words they had longed to hear. The words that made them a couple publicly at last. Harthing smiled as he spoke to all. "Your Majesty, ladies, and gentlemen, I am honored to present to you Sir William and Lady Nona Holmes."

There was a roar of cheering and applauds at that. Nona fought hard but couldn't hold back her blush as she and Sherlock made their way up the aisle, leading the recessional. Outside they were bustled into the Glass Coach, but the Queen did not ride with them. She explained, "this is their night, and they no longer need any supervision for the sake of etiquette." For that grace, both bride and groom were thankful for.

***

**_Nona_** –

Instead of rushing off to the celebration ball, all of the coaches made their leisurely pace back to Oakstaff. I rested my head on Sherlock's shoulder. Luckily it had all gone according to plan after that awful attack the night before. No, I wasn't going to remember that! This was our night, and I wasn't going to think about anything bad or anything to do with a certain scummy mathematics professor. Nona Holmes. Lady Nona Holmes. I still couldn't believe how foreign it felt. "Lady Nona Holmes."

"Still unbelievable?" Sherlock smirked as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Oh yeah, he has some pay back due him later. I had almost forgot. "No shit Sherlock, what was your first clue?"

"Outside of you saying you new title and name out loud with a slight uncertainty as you just did." Oh, how this man would pay later! "You are snuggling up close, haven't spoken a word yet, and look as if you think we are going to wake at any moment."

I smirked up at him. "I said **_first_** clue, Sherlock. Cheeky, arrogant, pain." He kissed my cheek, and I couldn't help melting in certain places. "At least you won't have any surprises later on about my character." Okay, forget melt! I was on the verge of tears with that. And then he went on. "It is strange for me as well, Nona. And I too worry that this is just a dream. I'll wake and find myself in my room at Baker Street and you will still be sleeping in the maid's quarters or worse at Oakstaff and still missing to me."

A couple of tears escaped at that. Before I could wipe them away with my handkerchief, he took it from my hand and swept them from my face for me. Looking in his eyes, I felt the world fall into place. This was my husband, and no one was going to take him from me. Slowly he tilted his head towards mine, and I opened my lips just a little. For the second time that night we kissed. But this time he gently pulled me closer and the kiss deepened. Maybe I wouldn't punish him tonight. By the time we pulled apart, we both needed air and there was no doubt that this was no dream!

I snuggled into his arms and Sherlock leaned back against the cushions before wrapping me in his arms. "Was it your dream come true, Mrs. Holmes?" I chuckled at that out-of-the-blue question. To obvious an answer, but I had to say it anyway. "'It' is an indefinite noun in that sentence, my husband." The smirk on his face, twinkle in his eyes, and chuckle in his throat made the comment well received. "Would you be so kind as to elaborate for me?"

Sherlock rubbed my back and kissed my lips for a moment. "'It', my dear Lady Nona Holmes, in this case pertains to the wedding we just had the happy occasion of submit ourselves to." He had enjoyed it, and was worried about how I felt. We ladies had to have done good to have got that kind of wording from my now dear husband. "Yes it was Sherlock. My dream and more." His eyes turned serious, and I was worried. That is until he spoke again. "That is all that matters to me. Your happiness."

What can I say? The man loves me.

* * *

Well, should I stop it here? I'm not getting many reviews, and it is so lonely. Comments?


	4. We Celebrate and Go onto the Future

Okay everyone, I was asked to input the honeymoon. As asked we follow along and even see the couple solve a case of a missing girl. 

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING**: The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **_EXTREMELY HIGH_** levels of **_BST_** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

**DISCLAIMER**: Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the US they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All BST characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian and NON-Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^

~~

Chapter 16

**In Which We Celebrate and Go onto the Future**

By Bonnie S.

~~

Nona – 

We were back at Oakstaff not long after the ceremony. After the all too long for my tastes receiving line, Sherlock and I had our first dance. To my surprise it was the song I had hummed to him that night he finally got clean. Sherlock wore a grin on his face at my expression, but I had never been so touched in my life. I was surprised that he even remembered it. Later he told me that it would be a song that he would never forget. Just to get even with him I decided to sing the words to the music. As the music died away, I could see he was fighting with tears. "That was beautiful, Lady Holmes."

"The song said it all, Sir Sherlock. Everything I feel for you, even if I had to re-word the chorus a little – you are not a girl after all." He kissed me gently and look in my eyes. I swear I will never forget how I felt at that moment ever. "Even as you sang it to me, my wife, those words are how I feel as well."

I danced with my dad, while Sherlock danced with my mom after that. All too appropriate the song was "Butterfly Kisses". I chuckled at it. "Are all the songs from the future, dad?" He winked as he twirled me a little. "Only the important songs." He sang me the third verse and it hit home. '**_She'll change her name today. She'll make a promise and I'll give her away. Standing in the bride room, just staring at her. She asks me what I'm thinking, and I said I'm not sure, I just feel like I'm losing my baby girl. She leaned over... Gave me butterfly kisses, with her mama there, sticking little white flowers all up in her hair. Walk me down the aisle Daddy, it's about time. And does my wedding gown look pretty Daddy? Daddy don't cry. Oh, with all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right, to deserve her love every morning and butterfly kisses... I couldn't ask God for more, man this is what love is. I know I got to let her go...but I'll always remember... Every hug in the morning.. and butterfly kisses...._**'

Then I dance with my father-in-law, while my mom and dad danced and little Ashley got to dance with her new 'favorite' cousin. "Dad, if it hurts, we don't have to dance." He looked at me with a stern smile. "You are finally my daughter, and I believe that this is our dance." I was not about to argue that point as a VERY familiar intro began to play. Again it was a song from my old time. Kyle was a sneak. It was the piece he and his teacher had wrote for my birthday a few years back – the orchestra version of 'Love Can Build a Bridge'. Dad saw that I knew the song. "What are the words, Nona?" I sang the song as it played. At the end I saw that Dad had tears in his eyes. "Violet would have loved that song. Thank you."

**_Trish_** –

I could hardly believe everything that had happened up to this point! It had felt so right walking up the aisle on Mycroft's arm, like it had been our day. But, he was a confirmed bachelor for life. That put a twist in my heart at that moment. Well, at the least I knew without question that I could trust him and he would always be a good friend. Who was I kidding? I was hurting. No one would know me as deeply as Mycroft. That I decided only minutes after I confessed my every dark secret to him. I would never set myself up to be hurt like that again.

I had looked him over as I had walked up the aisle. He was so good looking in that outfit, and I saw easily that he had lost more weight. A total of ten pounds I would later find out. It might seem like a small number, but it made a **huge** impact on his appearance.

We rode in the same carriage as Watson and Mary (who were lost in one another's eyes the entire trip) back to Oakstaff. I liked how Mycroft had kept a gentle possessive hand on mine as we drove through the night. I knew it was only because the previous night still had him and the other men rattled, but I secretly daydreamed that maybe he had some kind of feelings for me.

Once everyone had gone into the ballroom for the ball we lined up for the receiving line. Every man I was introduced to all asked me for the first dance, but there was only one I really wanted to dance with for that dance at the least. I politely told them that I had given the dance to another, hoping that if Mycroft didn't dance with me that these jackals would understand when I tell them that I saved it for myself. The man I wanted to dance with himself had vanished along with a few of his men after one of them whispered into his ear, so maybe something was going down and they didn't want to spoil everyone's good time.

The song was beautiful as Holmes and Nona breezed across the dance floor in their first dance. I smiled as I watched them, noting how quickly time was dwindling before the rest of us would be dancing with them. So far no Mycroft to my rescue, so maybe I could fake an illness? No, not on these guys' wedding day! 

Looked like I was going to be stuck with whoever talked to me first. And here I thought that I was going to enjoy tonight. And then a warm familiar hand rested on my shoulder – Mycroft had returned from wherever. "I had heard you saved the first dance with someone. Should I feel disappointed or elated?"

"Elated of course. Where have you been? I was getting worried that the hunters would be stalking me in another few seconds." And I had been right. Most of the packs had broken off their attack patterns the moment Mycroft and I started talking.

What got me was he was wearing his all too rare smile! Still I had to give myself a reality check. More than likely he is just happy for his brother, not being here with me and hearing I saved the first dance for him. Yeah, that had to be it.

The music signaled all to join in, and he offered me his arm that I took gratefully and proudly. So what if we were only friends. So what if that is all we'd ever be. I would rather have him as my friend than to have never known the man.

We continued dancing through four more songs, to the annoyance of my many suitors. And then Mycroft found a way for us to slip out onto the back porch without being noticed. The stars were twinkling, and the moon was a beautiful smile. But, I doubted that it was smiling on me. Oh well, romantic interlude turned to dust as I force myself to remain in friends only mode – despite the fact that it was breaking my heart. "So, what happened to you earlier?"

"An unexpected and un-welcomed gift for my brother and his new bride. Someone left a box of red and white roses with this card."

He reached it over to me and I read it. It was written on a typewriter and read like this:

Mr. & Mrs. Holmes;

One sentiment to you both, and certainly to the blushing bride in particular. Cherish each of the days together you have as it were the last you have.

It was unsigned, and gave me chills. "What could this and flowers mean?"

Mycroft shook his head with a grave expression on his face. "Red and white roses given is a threat or wish for death. What do you make of the card?"

'Certainly to the bride in particular.' Why single out Nona? "Could someone be out to hurt Nona?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No, I think it is a reminder." And then he told me about her close call with Moriarty.

I growled angrily. "He's reminding her that he tried to save her heart later down the road. That old coot is sick in the head!" Mycroft snorted indignantly at that. "And we have no way to prove that it had been he who sent the 'gift'. I will talk to Sherlock about this later. For now let's allow them to enjoy their beginnings, shall we?"

I nodded in agreement and again looked up. It was comforting when he stood behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. I really began to wonder what my future held. Virgil wouldn't be a child forever. In fact, he was going to start at boarding school all too shortly. Theresa already had work lined up. But I had no idea how I was going to earn my keep when I was forbidden from doing housework.

Everything was uncertain and foreboding ahead of me, and yet, with Mycroft there with me, I felt safe. But I knew that he'd never see me as anything but a friend.

***

**_Mycroft_** –

I knew that I should have been worry for my brother and new sister, but at that moment my mind wouldn't focus on anything past the young woman before me. Trish had gone through so much and given up just as much to remain here. Now her future was in critical question. Like my new sister, she refused to live anywhere on another's charity. However there were few employment opportunities for her.

I knew that she had been through too much and it was too soon to consider asking her to remain as my permanent guest here at Oakstaff. I just couldn't find anything to suit her where I would not lose touch with her. The last thing this young woman needed was to be seemingly abandoned by the few she knew and the even fewer she trusted.

The look on her face told me she was only wearing a mask of pleasantness for the mean time. Soon Trish would break down, and I feared what could happen if she were alone when that happened. She … she … she …

When had this young woman become anything to me? I never thought anything of females in the past. My work, my club, and my rooms – that had been the extent of my focus for years. So how in so short of time had she made herself a part of that core?

That first night it had been a mere wonder that had kept me talking to her. Trish spoke of her friendship with Nona, her plans to teach, what she had learned at school, and some of the wonders I doubted that I would ever see. And then she began to ask intelligent questions about myself. When she continued to ask questions and make comments I saw that she held a genuine interest in her new world. She was as un-Victorian as Nona and the Queen. That quality about her was the first reason I respected Trish.

Respect and what I felt standing behind her on the terrace that night was as separate as could be had. The day Virgil fell asleep in her arms, I only borrowed Trish's book to be polite. It also gave me valuable information about the woman herself. She had written notes in the margins, presumably concepts for her own tales. I found her to be complex, interesting, and anything but predictable.

I returned the book and she turned over its next volume, along with her soul, to me without my asking. The things she said were appalling, and should have never been placed on a living soul – much less the child she had been at the time. Yet, I see a woman who had lived with those guilts and shame for her entire life. For a moment I wondered what had kept her from going mad from the strain I saw in her stance and face. But when I absolved her of that horrid past, she … she fit in my embrace so perfectly. No, I couldn't think like that.

I only took her to visit the Queen because I knew once word of Trish's arrival made it back to her majesty that it would be requested of me. I believed that we were both bored at the opera. Trish still had no idea that I held her in higher favor than most women.

When she returned to North Riding I went straight back to work. It was nothing more than a visit from a friend. I was not yearning to chase after her, and I had only watch the train depart to be sure she was secure. She was my friend and under my protection until that moment. I would have done the same for any other friend.

Then I escorted Nona here for the final wedding preparations. I returned the third book, not understanding why there was need of a fourth. Trish harped gently until I read the book to see what was so important. If she only knew how I wished such things could happen in life. However, pinning for such brings nothing in return normally.

The two of us discussed the books, and I critiqued a few of her works from the series. She wished that she had me with her when she had been writing them. It seemed that she had put them out for the public a few weeks before moving in at Oakstaff, and I found many little problems and inconstancies.

Then Trish and I began talking about the wedding, and told me about the various documents she had discovered. I chuckled at her resourcefulness. If she weren't a woman it wouldn't have been difficult to find her work in my department. Yet there was that one point standing in her way.

I held her shoulders in my hands and was pleased when she leaned into my touch. As remarkable a woman she was, Trish still needed a place to belong. She needed a reason to be.

"Mycroft, I wonder if I was supposed to go back instead of staying like I did."

That statement had me in shock. "Why Trish?"

She turned around and gave me the saddest smile I had ever seen on her face. "Nona had a place here in the past. I found her and Sherlock's marriage and death certificates along with several birth certificates for children accounted for them after all."

"Did you trying looking for your name as well?" I was worried. Trish was beginning to crack from the strain.

She looked at the ground and sighed hard. "The computer slowed down to where I just shut it off because I thought I didn't have enough time to look. Sherlock's letter said I had only a certain amount of time, while Nona's said I had about twenty-four hours more. She's meant to be here, I'm not."

"Just because you didn't find your records doesn't mean you are not meant to be here. After all, who would have saved my Father if you hadn't come? And think about all of the lives that you have touched since remaining? How different would their lives have been?" I held her close and wondered how different my life would have been without Trish. She didn't look up at me as she challenged my sincerity. "Name one."

I thought a moment and nodded with satisfaction. "What about that little girl you pulled away from being ran down by the carriage? The one you told not to let the good end with her? She didn't according to my sources." That got Trish's attention. "That little girl saved a little boy from drowning, and told him the same. Where did you think of that, Trish?"

She smiled and blushed. "I reworded a song I love a lot."

When she sang that song I felt something stir in my chest I had believed was long dead. I barely knew this woman, but I knew that I didn't want to see her leave. That was when we saw a doorway to her time open in the bushes. Trish started to go towards it, but I wasn't ready to give her up. I grabbed a hold of her arm firmly and got her eyes to meet mine. "If you don't stay for the rest, stay for me. Give me one year to see how you change my time … my world. One year and if I can't convince you to stay, I will … I will let you do as you wish."

Trish looked at the portal for a moment and then returned to my embrace and nodded softly. "One year from today."

I held her close and prayed hard that I could find the needed evidence before time ran out. I had no idea at the time as to why; I just knew she was a part of my life I did not want to lose.

***

**_Nona_** –

A few more appropriate to the era songs played. At the first moment we weren't expected to be on the floor dancing Sherlock and I went outside to look at the stars and get some privacy. We ended up on the same bench as we sat on at my first ball. "So much is different now than before." He didn't have to ask me what I meant. Sherlock just smiled an honest but tired smile. "That is very true Lady Holmes, but thankfully most of the changes are for the better."

"You calling me that makes me worried people will think that I am Holly." I chuckled. The truth was that I wasn't really accustomed to being a Lady. Sherlock brushed a finger down my cheek. "Then I will have to call you Mrs. Holmes until you have time to adjust to your new title my dear." That wasn't at all what I had in mind, but I wasn't in the mood to fight him – not on our wedding night. "If you must, Sir Sherlock." That lit his eyes with the heat of a challenge. I'd bet anything he was planning what he would do to me later on for that. "I insist, Mrs. Holmes."

Before I could retort, Ashley came running up. "There you are! I lonely!" She bounced into Sherlock's lap and beamed. "He nicer in person, me Nona."

I had to laugh. Poor Sherlock looked at me as if the girl was an alien from another planet! "Remember the letter, Sherlock? About the presents." That explained it all, but Ashley had to add her bit in. "Yeah, I love my dolly. I named her Christmas. But can I have new dollies for my dollhouse?" Sherlock smirked, but I could tell he wanted to laugh as badly as I did. After a moment, he finally had enough composure to answer her. "Wait until you get home, and we will see." That was a bad choice of words to say to a four-year-old. Ashley jumped down and giggled before running off, "yay, new dollies!"

I broke down into tears. "Nice job, Sir Sherlock. 'We'll see' to her is a sure thing." Sherlock shook his head and chuckled as well. "You wait until now to tell me this?" Raising my hands in mock defeat, I gave a sweet smirk. "Dearest, you didn't give me the chance. Besides, she asked me the day everyone arrived before she dragged me back here, and I stupidly said the same thing. So the double 'we'll see' means she will be angry for six months to a year if we don't get her a present." Giving a smirk and a shutter, Sherlock winked at me. "Given I am so nice, looks like we'll be sending some dolls." I nodded and we went back inside for dinner.

What Sherlock and I didn't know until our first dance was that the band was from the twenty-first century. Kyle had talked his band teacher into coming to Oakstaff with the full orchestra the man worked with on the weekends to play (creatively telling the man that it was a Victorian themed wedding). We also later found out that the portal to and from my old time connected to the front door was active for our wedding (nice wedding gift momma Holmes) connected to the Oakstaff of the future so that it was like they had only walked into the house, rather than time traveled. Yet, it closed until the band was ready to go, and then when my family a few days later too wanted to go home. None of the guests from the current era asked the band about the music they didn't recognize. Our families thankfully handled those questions.

After dinner, the champagne was passed around (the kids only getting a small splash in their juice mind you – it is a celebration, but I won't let them act as if they are adults) for the toast. Mycroft nodded over to Watson, which I knew meant he was getting our dear friend to speak first. "I have known Holmes and Nona from the beginning. I will not go on with how I knew this night was going to happen, because they both know that I did." Everyone chuckled and I fought off my blush. Maybe Sherlock and I should have kept the teasing to only when we were alone? Nah, was more fun watching Watson chuckling behind his paper.  He raised his glass and smiled at us. "They are my dearest friends and I am grateful to count them as such. Nona, you have had to deal with much in the short time I have known you – thankfully it was not all from Holmes." I couldn't hide my laughter at that, though Sherlock blushed a bit. Well, for a majority he deserved it. "But it made you all the better for it. Here's to the bride. May your hours of joy be as numerous as the petals of your bridal bouquet."

There were agreements as everyone took a sip but me (it isn't polite to sip when you are the subject of a toast!). I was fighting off my tears. Then Watson went after Sherlock. "Holmes, you once told me that you were a brain and that the rest of you is a mere appendix. I am grateful that you have learned otherwise. Here's to the groom, a man who keeps his head though he loses his heart." As I took a sip of my drink, I could see that Sherlock was as moved as I was. Appendix my foot! Not so long as I lived his body and heart wouldn't be! But, Watson wasn't finished with us just yet. "To you both, my friends. With all of the trials and heartaches the two of you have come through this past year, I hope and pray that the worst of woes for you both is over and done. May every day be happier than the last. Let's drink to love, which is nothing -- unless it's divided by two."

I'm glad I wasn't supposed to sip after that. I had to swallow just to keep from crying. I am so glad I got him that writing set the first Christmas we were all together. Before Mycroft stood I whispered to Sherlock, "if he jokes, we get that butterball." Sherlock smirked. "We could make certain he must act soon towards Trish." I nodded. So, was butterball to be roasted or not was the question needing answered. "I knew I shouldn't have let the doctor who is a known man of words go first. Who can follow a speech like that one?" Question answered and oven is set on pre-heat to four hundred! "First to my little brother. A toast to the groom -- and discretion to his bachelor friends and relatives. Sherlock, You've taken Nona for better or for worse, but please never take her for granted. I'm sure you know what will happen if you do that **_again_**." Taking that sip was hard giving the chuckles I just couldn't get a handle on as Sherlock again blushed. "And now to my new sister, Nona. I hope that this is a night you will never forget. But, if you do forget, may you remember it quicker than the things you forgot before and in an easier manner. May you never forget what is worth remembering or remember what is best forgotten." Okay, now I am so torn. Roast or not to roast … what a corny question! Time to find that baster. "Now to the happy couple together. What has past is best where it is now. The best advice I could give you both is to focus on making the next memory the best if it were to be your last. For the best memories are the ones we cherish the most, but remember infrequently at best. May the best of your yesterdays be the worst of your tomorrows." Okay, maybe I won't need that baster after all. Ah heck, I went and got it out already – might as well use it.

Then my dad stood up. This would probably be the last night I'd see him. It just hit me that he wouldn't even be able to tell me what to do if I need someone to talk to. No, I would not cry! "And Mycroft was complaining about following a wonderful speech? Well I least I am only following a measure of one." Guess he saw my hurt, because he would always go for a giggle right when I needed it most. "First to my baby girl. You will never stop being my baby, even now as a grown woman and a new wife, and I will never stop being proud of you. May the most that you will ever wish for, be the very least of what you will receive." Where's the giggle when I need it? Dad just smiled and went on. "Sherlock, you and your friend, John, have saved my daughter many times. That was the first reason I accepted that she was marrying you tonight. But, I also know that you are a man who will do whatever it takes to make her happy and take care of her when life gets rough. To the man who will always have the bride's heart, and her father's respect." I had to smile as I took a sip. Dad was already taking care of me, for when the times got rough. Then he smiled at us both. "Finally, to the both of you. I see the love you both have in each other's eyes and as your love grows for one another, may you look back on this day and know this is when you loved each other the least."

Mom stood up and looked as nervous as I had ever seen her. "Since I'm the only mother able to give a speech tonight, I hope it is fitting and well received by all." Getting that out of the way helped mom to calm a little. "Nona, I've been with you from the earliest beginnings of you life. And with every milestone you have come to I have been there in person or at the very least in spirit. May you have many more to come across and be there for your children's as well." I could see that mom was battling her tears too. I knew right then, if Sherlock and I had kids, watching my babies get married was going to be the hardest experience I would ever bear. Then she smiled again. "Sherlock, marrying you for my baby is a dream come true. I only ask that you do all you can to make the dream last and keep the nightmares away. To my new son, a toast to love, laughter, and happily ever after." I smiled more at that. Mom knew I wanted to be the secret Princess rescued and married by the white knight. Well now I have my knight who rescued me and finally married me. "As to the both of you. I have only one wish I could give you. May you live as long as the two of you want, but never want so long as the two of you live."

That nearly started the waterworks. I had to swallow twice while Sir Siger stood up. My new dad. At least I knew for certain that I could go to him if things got real bad. "I am certain that my Violet would not only receive that toast well, but she would have been as pleased with the lady who gave it as I know she is with her daughter." Okay swallow. Again, and again. "Nona, you have come into this family, turned what was accepted upside down, gave my son new strength to stand up to me, and taught a bitter old fool a well deserved lesson. You also helped to save my worthless life, and gave me a peace I thought I would never have again. For all of that I thank you, and am proud to call you my daughter." Dang, one tear got away. This time I caught it with my handkerchief. "Sherlock, I told you not long ago to do right by this girl. Thankfully you took my advice for once. Here is to the son I have never said this to, but I am very proud of and grateful I have him." I sipped my drink and tried to keep from crying and laughing at the startled expression that was now on my husband's face. Dad was grinning as he raised his glass one last time to us. "Violet and I had many years together. We were happy and content with all we did. I wish that the same be blessed on the two of you, my children. May the joy you share today be just the beginning of a lifetime of happiness and fulfillment."

I was so hoping there would be no more speeches, but I was wrong. Victoria stood and everyone was instantly silent. After a moment to compose herself, I saw the shy friend who dotted on her grandchildren turn into the Queen I respected and admired. "It is a rare joy to know such a couple. It is even rarer still to count them among my friends." That was the most uncommon of honors I never dared hope to get – for her to call us her friends in public. First she looked to me. "Nona, with a wisdom and heart that none has before now seen, you are a jewel. All that you have gone through to get to this time and place has made you who you are. The harsher days cut you, while the better days polished you until now you shine. Now all can see the brilliant fire of the love you two share alight with you. Never be afraid of who you are, because none can outshine you." Okay that just out did being call a friend, by a VERY long mile! Sherlock was smiling, until Victoria addressed him. "Sherlock, you are a subject and friend who is uncommon in Our kingdom. And it was only recently that I was able to give you the honor you most certainly deserve. Yet, I doubt that title is of very great importance next to the distinction you have now as Nona's husband. You are a worthy man for such a tribute, and may you never forget nor renounce what she has given you tonight." He nodded as I took a sip. "As for you both, you have been there for one another through grief and troubles. May you see each other through many dark days, and make all the rest brighter." Victoria might be shy, but she could give quite the speech.

Then Sherlock stood. Oh man, how would I get through this? Would he at the least give me the chance to recover from the other toasts? Nope, my luck would hold wouldn't it? "Nona, this past year had turned my world around, often confused me, irritated me, and came close to losing my sanity along with my life now and again. Through it all I have had two constants, Watson and then you." He smiled and I gave up fighting my tears. "Watson called our negotiations that first morning a very neat battle as I remember. It was a battle I am thankful I lost. I got not only that chemistry book that I thoroughly enjoyed, but I also found the most amazing of women as well. You have changed my life, changed my world, and changed myself. To my bride, who knows all there is about me and still loves me." After a moment he turned to Watson. "Watson, you have been a dear friend over the years. Saw me through injury, stupidity, and healing of all kinds. You were the first to save Nona, and it was you who brought her into our lives. It is you too I must thank. To my dearest friend and my Boswell, John Watson."

I could see how touched Sherlock's words made Watson. Then my husband turned to his elder brother. Roast butterball anyone? "Mycroft there are times you can be tiresome with your audacious humor. Yet, you are there when I need advice, support, or a smack in the head. As I too will be for you."

"Mr. Brown, I am the lucky man indeed tonight. For as often as I tried to push her away, your daughter is still remaining with me. The fact that you support us gives me all the more reason to be grateful." Holmes might not do many speeches, but the ones he did give when sober were memorable. "Mrs. Brown, Father was right in that my mother would have enjoyed that speech. And finally having Nona as my wife is my dream come true as well. And I will do my best to guard her from the nightmares that might one day come." Then he nodded to his father. "We have never seen eye to eye until Nona came into our lives, Father. And then she gave us a blessing none other than she could give. I am grateful that you accepted her as my wife, and have done so much to welcome Nona into our family. I only hope to have as many happy times with Nona as you had and would have had with Mother." Then Sherlock bowed to Victoria. "Your Majesty, it is an honor and a pleasure to be held as a friend of yours and to have the other honors you have bestowed upon myself and my bride. Nona, true, is a jewel and my treasure. I do not intend to ever give her up. Of that you have my word."

Well, it was my turn. God, I was not ready for this! Heck, I have never been good at speeches! "First to you Sherlock. You were out to help me from the start without being asked. I know I was butting in your life and you didn't like that at first, but you and Watson were the constants in my world at that time. I knew from the start that I could trust you both, and that was the reason I fought that little war with you to stay. Then you took my heart, and I never want it back." That got applauds and I saw the tears shinning in his eyes. He knew what I meant, and that I had meant every word of it.

I looked over at our friend and now family doctor (who else would we trust?). "Watson, you save my life that first night, and didn't mind when I snapped at you – must have been used to it, but where from?" Everyone laughed a little. Dang, butterball was rubbing off on me! "You took me home, and helped me fit in, and helped me figure out my heart when I thought for sure there was no chance I'd be here tonight like this. Thank you for being there and for remaining our friend." The tears he wiped away told me that Watson was touched, but I meant it all.

On to butterball. "I'm still annoyed about that afternoon you first showed up at Baker Street, Mycroft." Everyone chuckled at that, but Mycroft simply sat back and smirked! Did he **_not_** know that I was not playing? "But it brought us an amazing adventure, and helped Sherlock and I get closer – even if you derailed that a time or two. I just hope you are there when we need to be put back on track as well."

"Daddy, I thought that you and my family wouldn't be here and it hurt now and again while the girls and I pulled this wedding together. Then I heard a certain little girl demanding for a hug," that got many laughs that became louder as Ashley stood up and proclaimed that I was talking about her. "Yes, Ashley dragged me back to the house and everyone was here. You will never realize how happy that made me. But now, my happiness is here beside me, in Sherlock."

I had to fight off my tears as I kept going. "Mommy, you made a great toast. And I do have my dreams at last. And I promise to keep in contact." Everyone chuckled and I turned to my new dad. "Dad, thanks for everything. You helped me get my memory back. And even helped Sherlock and I get back together. I just hope that all the bad is gone." Dad nodded and smiled as the others clapped.

I curtsied to Victoria and smiled. "Thank you for you sweet words, Your Majesty. I have never felt as blessed as I have tonight, but your words helped to make this wedding more than any of my dreams."

Then I looked over at my best friend for too long to not say anything. "Trish, I have to thank you too. If you hadn't come back, I would have died. You gave me back my life, and my oldest friend as well. Thanks girl."

After all of that, Sherlock and I cut the wedding cake. The top tier was saved for our first child's christening (though neither of us had any idea why, we just knew that no one was going to eat from it ever). The cake itself was a really moist fruitcake that was frosted with a thick and sweet icing. Some traditions suck, give me plain cake and butter cream icing any day. But it was nice to do something together. Then I was introduced to another little tradition. Inside the cake had been charms. Ironically, Trish got the charm meaning that she would be married before the end of the year. Sherlock and I were still determined to follow our plan though – just to help superstition this once.

After dinner, Sherlock and I decided that it was time to set fate into motion so that dad would have his Christmas wish come true. According to Sherlock, the men were not hard to convince. I, however, did have to plead and finally give a brief account of the plan for the ladies, but they all agreed after that. It was not tradition in a fancy wedding like this for the garter toss, but we were hoping that with all the gentlemen who were hovering near Trish for a chance with her that Mycroft would interfere.

All of the ladies, including Trish, were gathered in the center of the room. I turned around to make it all seem legitimate. On three I tossed the flowers into the air, and right to target they landed in Trish's hands. She blushed and seemed to groan mentally when she saw all the suitors whose eyes were targeting her. That is until, when the next dance began, Mycroft asked to dance with her – heading off the wolves and falling for the trap! Both fell and looked like they wanted no help getting up out of the hole at all. Dad smirked and nodded his satisfaction at our little trick. He looked to be counting the days before wedding plans were hatched once again.

***

Mom helped me get ready to go after Sherlock and I set up butterball and my best friend. There was NO way I was going on my honeymoon in that dress with all of its tiny buttons! It took time to get out of my gown (the main reason I was NOT wearing it oh my honeymoon night!), but changing into my traveling dress wasn't that hard. I didn't want to wear make up that night, so I washed my face before I finished changing. After I changed and was in the bathroom looking in the mirror, I was so scared that I was dreaming. I prayed that if I were that I would live in this dream for the rest of eternity. 

Looking at my left hand, gone was the diamond and garnet ring. In its place was a plain gold band. I looked and found mine and Sherlock's initials and our wedding date engraved on the inside – WSSH-NEB 01-25-1883. It was official. I was Mrs. Sherlock Holmes at last. It still felt surreal. Mom smiled at me as I came out of the bathroom. "Yes, you are married to him now baby." Shaking my head, I smiled. "Do I have 'Am I Dreaming?' tattoo on my forehead?" Mom chuckled, "no, but I remember how I felt when I was getting ready to go on my honeymoon. You looked how I felt then." And then there was a knock on the door.

"I believe I am allowed in here now, am I right, Lady Nona Holmes?" Sherlock chuckled with that mischievous grin I hoped our sons too would one day carry as he came into the room. I giggled as I ran into his open arms and relished the feel of his embrace. "I love you, Sherlock."

He rubbed my back and took claim on my lips, a claim I fully returned on his. This was my husband and only love. For the first time in so long, I was certain about where and who I was. When we broke our kiss, I looked and saw that his eyes were two deep pools of dark gray silk. It was a first, and I was hypnotized by it. "I love you more, my Lady Nona. And I will spend the rest of my days proving just that."

Mom chuckled. "I think we should get you two off to the station before you decide to have a hometown honeymoon."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. The silk in my husband's (I love saying that) eyes lit up and sparkled. And it was me who had caused it to happen. Have to say that made me feel beyond cherished.

He grabbed my last two bags and offered mom and I his elbows. Mom grinned, knowing that I had someone to watch over me in this new past age. "Thank you son." I swear she enjoyed calling such a famous man her son.

Sherlock just loved having a mother in his life again – no matter how short a time it was to be for. "You are welcome, mother." I beamed him a smile.

Mom too was beaming in joy, pride, and love. "Call me mom, son. After all, that is what your wife calls me." I could see in her eyes that she loved saying that. Sherlock too had a look of pure pleasure when he looked at me. "Yes, mom. Thank you for everything."

She stopped us just before we made it to the stairs. "Just take good care of my baby girl. And remember I can research it and find out if you do or not." The grin on her face told me that she was playing, Sherlock chuckled and that told me that he saw mom's tease as well. "Nona is my life now. I will never let her regret our marriage."

That was enough for mom. We went down the stairs to applauses from everyone we cared about. I know that I wasn't the only one to see how close Trish and Mycroft were to one another (his hand on her far shoulder in fact, with hers covering his – promising). Sherlock grinned at it too and winked at me, our plan was working well.

We ran through a shower of rice and got into the carriage that would have taken me to the church. As we settled in the carriage a left slipper landed on my lap with a note stuffed in it.

**_Hey Girlie,_**

****

**_The two of you deserve all of the good luck in the universe, because of all of the good deeds you both have and will do together._**

****

**_T&M_**

We chuckled at it and I waved goodbye to everyone, but mostly to my friend and new brother. I settled back and into my husband's arms and smiled up at him. "Christmas at the latest."

"What do you mean, my beautiful wife?" That got a chuckle from Mr. St. Clair. We shared that chuckle with him. "I mean that Mycroft is going to be coming by Baker Street to ask for mom's engagement ring." I rubbed its band with my thumb where it then set, on my right hand. Sherlock agreed with me, as did Mr. St. Clair (though he swore to keep it secret from the pair – he wanted to see what unfolded as well).

Mycroft had set up a special train for us, just to the boat for the continent! It was an engine with the fuel car and a club car, with snacks, drinks, and plenty of seating (several we could snuggle together on in fact). We waved goodbye to Mr. St. Clair from one of the windows, and then were on our own. For the first time, I was nervous. I guess that Sherlock saw it, because he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. "Not yet, Nona. Not on a train, not our first time."

It took all of my self-control (like I have much in the first place mind you) to keep from crying. I held tight to him and breathed in deep. In his arms I was home. When I looked up into his eyes I could see that he felt the same. Slowly my hands slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck as he pulled me even closer. We just started to move to the music in the peace around us – the stillness in the car, the sound of the train moving, and the beating of our hearts. For a long time that was all we did. Soon though I was snuggling closer to him from lack of sleep. Even if his presence in the house made sleeping easier, I still woke a couple times in the night. Then next thing I knew he had me in his arms once again (I would never get enough of him doing this ladies!). A moment later I was resting on a Chaise lounge and Sherlock was cuddling close to me. "Sleep now, Nona. It has been an exciting few days." 

The next thing I remember is waking to his chuckle. The train was slowing down. "Where are we?" Sitting up in a corset is murder ladies, this I know … at least after I winced and Sherlock had to help me get into a sitting position to clear the sleep from my head. "Were are at the boat for the Continent, Mrs. Holmes. As you only saw a spare view of France, and I do have a favor owed me there, we are to start our honeymoon tour with the French countryside." My eyes must have nearly popped out of my head with the smirk and chuckles Sherlock was shaking with. A few hours later and we were across the Channel and settled into a quaint French villa that I later discovered was owned by Sherlock as inheritance from Vernet through his sister.

It was small and romantic. No city noise, only the insects to sing for us. Seven rooms (only one bedroom mind you), indoor plumbing (wonder if Sherlock or Mycroft had anything to do with that), and private. There was a very small courtyard in front that was no bigger than our sitting room at home. In it was a fountain a few benches and flowers. There were roses and night blooming jasmine (one of my favorites) growing just outside our bedroom window. Speaking of the window, it opened onto a small quarter balcony – just big enough for the two of us to sit and relax. A double bed surrounded with white thin curtains that was all set for a wedding night stood again the wall opposite that window. 

Looking at that bed, I was still nervous. This was where everything changed, but would I ruin it for him? Sherlock rested his hands on my shoulders and began to give me an amazing massage. "We don't have to now, Nona. I won't force you ever." I had to smile. Turning around I could see just how worried for me he was too. "I'm just nervous, because I want tonight to be special for us both." He relaxed at that and smiled at me. "As long as we are together it will be special, ma belle jeune mariée." At the stunned look on my face he chuckled and brushed my cheeks with his thumbs. "My beautiful bride."

"I'd better get ready then." It took some doing to talk Sherlock into only helping me out of my corset (receiving open mouthed kisses from him all over my neck as he did), but I wanted to see his reaction when he saw my lingerie. He had already seen my body a year before, now he was about to see it dressed up a bit. Floor length ivory silk chemise with a cream lace robe. Leaving the robe open, I slid out of the bathroom to find him in his mouse colored dressing robe and obviously his usual gown. I felt very underdressed and a fool for trying to dress as if we were a couple of my age! Before I could get back in the bathroom (forgot to mention it is connected to our room didn't I?), Sherlock turned around and gasped. His eyes were wide in shock – oh, man I obviously went way overboard.

I couldn't look up at him, knowing that I probably broke a hundred rules and wrecked everything. "Too revealing?" When his hands rested on either side of my face so gently, I was stunned. "It is perfect. You are beautiful, Nona. More so than the you in my memory and dreams." I couldn't help but blush at that. What was I supposed to do or say now? For a few minutes we just stood there, easy to deduce that he didn't know how to continue either. I looked up into his gray eyes and smiled. He looked so nervous, uneasier in appearance than I felt. Taking the initiative, I stepped closer and rested my head on his chest. "You get to hold me now you know."

That bit of comedy broke through the uncertainty. Sherlock pulled me close and chuckled. "I know my dear, dear Nona. I simply wish to not rush you into anything that you are not ready for." He was holding back for me? I smiled and fought the urge to shake some sense into this man. All I had dreamed about for months now was being his and this night. "Sherlock, I'm ready. Don't mistake my nervousness for unwillingness. I love you; I just remember what Trish went through and how she described it. But she was a kid and she didn't want it to happen to her. Dan liked hearing Trish scream and that was why I caught them. I know that you will not hurt me to simply hear me scream." That seemed to stun my new husband. Still, he smiled as those beautiful gray eyes of his darkened with his passion. "I will never hurt you willingly of my best judgment."

After that we were lost in one another for the rest of the night. I will not give up details of that area of our night, even being of not a strict a moral as most women of this time – I do NOT kiss or more and tell. Yes, it hurt at the start – though nowhere as bad as I had feared, and the pain was gone in only a few moments. After that was pleasure that I was glad to have as my own alone. Once we were exhausted, Holmes held me close as I drifted off into the sweetest dreams I have ever had. When I woke a few hours later, the sun was rising, and I was alone in the bed. If it weren't for the disorientingly different room and no Mrs. Hudson waking me (along with a slight bit of discomfort in my lower body) I would have sworn that it was all a dream. And then I found my husband seated in the corner of the room, watching me.

I smiled as he sat there analyzing me, and maybe my mind. The sun slowly crept into the room, and his expression barely changed, but it was in a way and enough that I knew he was entranced by whatever it was in me that he saw. "Coming back to bed, handsome? It is a bit lonely laying here alone." His eyes lit up and sparkled and I chuckled at the sight. "First things first, Mrs. Holmes." Faster and with more precision of movement than should be legal for a man, he shut up the windows and drew heavy, dark curtains to block out the light near completely. Then he slipped back under the covers with me. "Too much light would make it difficult to sleep, as we both know my dear Lady Nona Holmes." Then we, well at least I for sure, got back to sleep.

After a couple days there we dipped down into Spain to visit and old friend of Sherlock's who raised prized horses. One of his horses caught my eye and my heart. She was beautiful! A rare all black Kabdara with a small silver star on her forehead a mane and tail as black as her body. Old Gilando had only then received the gentle girl and hadn't named her, so he asked me what she should be called. I looked her over and petted her, wishing so desperately that she was mine. No, I still did not like to ride; still I'd learn to love it with this girl. Just pretending that she was mine I gave her a name that suited her well – Onyx Queen. Sherlock chuckled, and old Gilando smirked as he nodded. "Then Onyx Queen she shall now be. Shall the two of you stay for some lunch? It has been too long to have my old friend here, but to have his new wife as well is a special treat to say the least."

We stayed, but while the men went off to see about some old clue Sherlock had left with Gilando I stayed at the window and watched Onyx Queen play in the pen we had left her in. She acted so happy, but seemed to be looking at me from time to time. As if she was making sure that I was still watching her. I was so entranced by her that I didn't notice the men come back until Sherlock rested a hand on my shoulder, startling me. "Sorry. Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?"

The way he would call me that was wonderful. I could see in his eyes that he knew exactly how I felt. "And then some. She's a beautiful horse. A prideful creature that seems to only allow a few close. Three of the handlers tried to get her, but she gets away from them and their ropes. They grumbled it seemed when they finally left her alone. Since then she's been playing in front of me, but always seems to look for my watch." Sherlock and Gilando both chuckled, but it was the older man who spoke first. "A fitting description of both ladies it would seem. And Onyx Queen, she seems to be watching her Lady closely because she is trying to gain your heart and trust." At first I longed inside that it was me she did belong to … no, with. No creature that beautiful could ever be owned, only befriended. And then it hit me. "Her Lady?"

Sherlock and Gilando both laughed hard. I looked back out at the rare horse and was shocked, it just couldn't be! Onyx Queen was mine? Gilando sighed as he got his laughter under control. "Yes, Lady Holmes, the Queen is yours. She is my gift to you for making my old friend here so happy. Call her my wedding gift to you." My heart raced with joy. Sherlock rubbed my arms and whispered in my ear, "a Queen for my own Queen." I looked up at him and smiled. He saw me as a Queen, just as he would forever be my King. God, I **had** to stop sounding like Watson! Even if it was only in my mind. I looked over at Gilando and beamed. "I don't know how to thank you. She is so beautiful!" The old man took my hand a kissed it before giving me a wink. "As to thanking me, there is no need. She is my gift to you for making my old friend happy. And yes, the Queen is a beauty." Without another word the three of us went back to the paddock to visit my horse. Onyx Queen seemed to know she was mine now. When we got to the fence she extended both of her forelegs and bowed to me! 

When we got ready to leave, I rubbed her neck. "Onyx, Sherlock and I are still on our honeymoon. You are going to go to Oakstaff in England. I'll be there every month, but you'll live with our family. There is a little boy named Virgil, he can play with you if you like him. He's a sweet kid. So, you be a good girl. I'll see you before Sherlock and I go home to London. Okay?" She snorted and nodded her head. Somehow I just knew that she understood me. Just after we left, Onyx Queen left Spain for her new home in England.

***

Sherlock and I then went back through Spain and France into Belgium. I was so happy to find such wonderful chocolate! For some reason I had been craving it for a few days. We spent a couple of days in Mons, which is the capital of the Belgium province Hainaut. We saw the City Hall; a gothic building that impressed me. It seemed that my husband knew it all too well – as he pointed out the windows to the offices of many officials he has had to visit in the past for one case or another. We walked by the Belfry Tower and took in a couple of museums. Stayed in a quaint inn whose owner made extra certain that we were not disturbed. In all, I loved it. Then we were off to Brussels (I HATE BRUSSEL SPROUTS!), the capital of the country. A lot of gothic buildings to say the least. The Town Square on the other hand was beautiful, even with all of the buildings. It was nice to be with Sherlock, just wandering around with nothing to do but explore. The Royal Park and Royal Square reminded me of home, as in my new home of London. 

When I told that to Sherlock, he let go of a laugh. He was glad that was what I meant by home and feeling a little home sick. That was why my stomach was queasy, I was just home sick. Sherlock at first wanted to go home, but I was enjoying being a bride enjoying her honeymoon. After my pouting (I was only upset because I felt I was ruining it all) he finally agreed to see our planned honeymoon to the end. A little more sight seeing and we went on to our next stop – the city of Antwerp. The second largest city in Belgium. It was on a harbor, but still brought home to my mind, though I never said so to my husband. Sherlock bought me a beautiful single diamond bracelet to go with the necklace that Watson had given me for that first Christmas we all were together.

Then the two of us were pulled in on a case that neither of us were ready to say no to – honeymoon or no. Given the nature of the crime and who was involved (along with my true history being revealed) I have been sworn to secrecy as to the full account. All I am allowed to mention in any form is this. A little nine-year-old girl was taken from her room in the middle of the night. What was notable was this girl was the daughter of a high-ranking government official with ties to Mycroft who sent us word – asking us to intercede with apologies for the interruption. Seeing that my dear husband was genuinely interested in the case, and I wanted to find that child, we took it as our first case as husband and wife.

What scared me was this was vaguely similar to that kid in Utah, I wondered to myself if she would be all right and would ever be found. Shaking it off, I went about with the normal interview. She had been missing forty-eight hours, but there was no ransom note. At first it looked like there wasn't a lot to go on, until we searched her room. Reading Watson's accounts of the case he and Sherlock dealt with, and watching shows like CSI, rubbed off on me. Right away I found what the official police missed – a patch of mud that had to have been swiped off the shoe of the abductor by accident, since there was only a little there. The local Inspector (A/N: I don't know if they are called Inspectors in Belgium, but for the sake of the story let's say they do until I am informed otherwise) showed up and had an attitude towards me that was worse than LaRat's the first day I met him! Before Sherlock could say a word, the girl's father stepped in and pointed out how a woman could spot vital clues better than the local police and he would have to look into the matter. That was enough to silence the Inspector. The twinkle in Sherlock's eyes was more than enough. The father had gained my husband's respect.

It would seem that Watson's stories came to our rescue again in this case. A little boy (age 11) named Peter, who seemed to be an inspiring consulting detective and was a friend to the girl, begged to help us. He became very useful as an honorary Irregular by gathering his friends from all walks of life in the city to become Irregulars as well. It was almost like home. On the fourth day of the investigation, we were going over the sample yet again when a young voice said, "that's from the piers I think." It was Peter! He told us of how he wanted to know every part of Antwerp like Sherlock knows London. I could help but grin at that. In fact Peter was able to point us to the correct building on the correct pier because of his having gone by the day before after a rain.

Getting to the pier an hour later, we split up to cover more ground (though Sherlock disliked the element of danger I was facing on my own). Then I heard it! "Come on pretty. Time to go to Brussels and make me some money." The voice was gruff, and I could just hear a soft whimpering. I turned around to see one of the local Irregulars jogging towards me, so I waved frantically. It was enough to get him to pick up his pace. Aren gasped when he saw the girl the man was dragging out of the small shack. "That's her Mrs. Holmes!" If I didn't do something fast, we'd lose her and it would be my fault! "Go get Sherlock now!" Aren nodded and ran faster than I thought he could. I still needed to buy him time to find my husband and for Sherlock to get to me. Then I noticed my chance.

There was a rope the man was coming up on. If I got it and held it up just right, he'd trip! Keeping myself hid, I got the rope and did what I could to keep from shaking. Three steps away the girl starts to cry. "Shut up or I'll give you something to cry about. Wanna go home and get another lesson?" That quieted her. God, she had been abused by the monster! Two steps away a hand rested on my shoulder and a familiar voice breathed in my ear quietly, "creative, Nona. Very creative." Sherlock had made it in time! One step away, I lifted the rope and felt Sherlock grab hold to help. Then it was done. The scum hit the boards and let go of the girl in an effort to protect himself. Before he could get up, Sherlock had a gun on him, and the girl was in my arms. A few days later I testified to what I had heard and the man was executed. It seems he did this for a living. Raping young girls after kidnapping them from their homes. Many of the few children found were dead, dying, pregnant, had small families of their own, or were so emotionally scarred that I wondered if any amount of love from their families would heal them a bit.

What was lucky was the little girl had been only been abused once on that one day. Sherlock and I felt we had failed by not getting to her sooner. But, he father pointed out she would have been completely lost without our help. Still we accepted no payment at all. Just as we were going to leave she came in the room holding a doll and her mother's hand. "[She] (A/N: remember no name people) wishes to say her goodbyes."

The girl looked like any child should; yet there was this shadow of age in her eyes. Her innocence was gone, but she was fighting still. I knelt down and was instantly in the tightest hug I had ever gotten before. "Thank you for bringing me home to my mummy and daddy." She whispered in my ear. Then she laid a package in my hand. She hugged and gave a similar package to Sherlock, and then left waving to us.

In my package was a small doll ornament, while Sherlock had the same but his was a boy while mine was a girl. "From her holiday tree. She adores the small ornaments on the tree we put up in her room every year, those two being her favorites." Her father explained, but would not hear of taking them back. They were and still are among the most treasured of rewards that the two of us have received in our lives.

Next we were off to Amsterdam, Holland and treated to the best of everything as a wedding gift from his clients. We took in the sights, traveled canals, went to the Artis Zoo, walked the beach together (still have shells from that trip). We took in a couple of concerts, went to the Hortus (a botanical garden and the jewel of the city) several times, we even saw the gutter grave. Sherlock shook his head at it, and I have to agree. I would have just made arrangements to be buried in a Catholic cemetery, but that is me.

Next was Switzerland. And I thought the chocolate in Belgium was great, I was in chocolate lover's heaven! It was beautiful as well! We ended up in Meiringen; staying in the inn we would stay at in the future case that would nearly end my husband's life – the Englischer Hof. Peter Steiler was everything I expected from Watson's description. We were the only ones in the inn besides his family there so privacy was no issue. The landlord's wife was a sweet woman, and his son Peter was excited to help us – though Watson's writings had not made their way to the little town. That relieved Sherlock to my mirth. After a couple of days, we decided to take the future trip to the hamlet of Rosenlaui and see the Reichenbach falls ourselves.

After a little over ten minutes or so we were there. And it shook me to my core. Going up was a terrifying (to me at least) noise. I read somewhere once that it was described like water mixed with fire. For me it was the cry of a death omen. Sherlock just pulled me closer to him as we walked, and I relished his touch. We walked the narrow path and soon were past the noise into this silence above it. It was a scary possibility of what my life would be like without him – empty and silent. 'A fearful place' did not cut it at all in the form of description. Then again it brought to my mind of all the things that just might go wrong in too short a time. That certainly made it more sinister to me. A long drop of six hundred and fifty-six feet, and I already could nearly hear Moriarty cursing us from the Aare River below. Can you tell I have looked up the facts before? Can you tell how scared I was by just reading this? Sherlock went over that place for over an hour before we finally left. He saw that I was near tears and decided that the trip had been a mistake, but I told him I wanted him to know the place so that he would have the advantage when the day would come.

Rosenlaui was a pretty place, but my mind and heart were battling with possibilities and nightmare visions of my wearing black for life. Sherlock and I returned to the Englischer Hof after only a couple of days. Every night after we visited the falls he held me tight and tried not to leave me sleeping alone when I might wake. 

Next we went to Italy and saw many towns and villages. Spent most of our honeymoon there in fact. There were still some places where we were not famous, but in the places where we were there seemed to be little bands of Irregulars waiting for any chore the two of us wanted done. Sherlock took it on himself to give them some small means of training in detective work – which most of the kids loved. We were lucky to be called to see the Pope the day we made it to the Vatican. Pope Leo XIII it seems was a fan of Watson's writings! Oh, Sherlock was fit to be tied from that! But he and Leo (we were given the privilege to call him such as his friends) talk about crime and the stories, along with seemingly thousands of other items. I trusted the man with my secret and he was stunned with the problems the church would someday face, as was my husband. Leo knew for him to move would alter history, but he was determined to seek out those who did such and punish the ones brought to him justly. Maybe messing with history can be a good thing. But then again, maybe I was supposed to tell him about it. No way to know for certain. Then we talked about the future at large, and he and Sherlock were both stunned about bathing suits, the environment, school violence, and what teachers would have to do to get marginally decent wages and credit. We had lunch and dinner both with Leo, along with touring the Vatican. He blessed our marriage and each of us himself before we left and we both smiled at the wonderful friend and memories we had made that day.

We went back to Oakstaff about a week after that. It was certainly nice to be on English soil again, as well as our second home. The first place we stopped at was the stables and found Virgil riding Onyx Queen with a big smile on his face. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would swear my precious Queen was smiling as well. Then they both saw me. "Aunt Nona! Uncle Sherlock!"

Onyx Queen bowed to me and Virgil jumped off her back. In a split second it seemed her was in my arms. "I missed you both bunches!" Sherlock was chuckling, and I just smiled as my Queen rose and walked to me. My husband simply grinned. "Obviously Onyx Queen has taken to you." Virgil beamed as he rushed over and grabbed my husband's leg before being lifted into his arms. "Yes Uncle Sherlock. She likes me and always lets me ride her. Daddy said I could since she was always so gentle with me."

I went to my Queen and smiled. "Thanks girl. Told you he's a sweetie. Do you like your new home?" Onyx neighed and nodded her head. I fed and walked her before seeing her tuck away in her stall for the night. Dad was happy to see us back and in smiles. Sherlock and I were glad to see our little plan was working very well as we were also greeted by both of our brothers, Holly, and Trish. Mycroft was in all praise about our organization and success in Belgium. Trish was more interested in listening to him than girl talking, a very good sign. But we had been gone from London for a long time. After a ride on Onyx, which turned out to be the best ride of my life, we got ready to leave. Then my stomach decided to be a pain again. I wasn't feeling well and agreed to see Watson in a medical capacity once we got home. What a surprise he had for Sherlock and I!

* * *

I hope everyone likes the additions to this chapter. It was SOOOO long I had to break it up a bit.

Wedding toasts came from: 

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	5. In Which I am Proven to be Better Than a...

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING**: The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **_EXTREMELY HIGH_** levels of **_BST_** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

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**DISCLAIMER**: Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the US they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All BST characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^

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BST Chapter 17

In Which I am Proven to be Better Than a King and I Miss Many Cases 

By Bonnie S.

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**_Nona_** –

Sherlock and I didn't stay away long, mostly because I knew that there were some important cases coming up. We spent only a few days here and there in most places, and usually only spent a few days at most on trains between places. In the end we were gone a little more than a month. We were both homesick and my stomach troubles and feeling tired had Sherlock worried. However, he didn't want any doctor but Watson checking me. I told my damn husband that I just picked up a flu bug and would be fine in a few days, but Sherlock wouldn't listen. He just had to point out that a large portion of the time people who caught the flu died in this century. With no arguments to that and feeling very scared for my life, no thanks to him, we came home and I was taken to Watson's office straight from the train station.

Watson, on no uncertain terms, was delighted to see us. "Nona, Holmes! How was the honeymoon?"

"Very relaxing, though Nona seems to have gotten ill." Sherlock was to the point as usual, while I was fighting to keep what little I had gotten in my stomach down and stay awake. Watson looked worried. Ever our family doctor, he refused to let me slide without examining me. Unfortunately, Sherlock had to help him by swearing to remain with me and shooting the sorriest pair of puppy dog eyes I had ever seen in my life! Finally I just growled and barked at the two men I knew cared so much about me. "Fine! You both win! Happy now?"

Lying down on his exam table, I let Watson give me a check up. Both men seemed hurt by my outburst as Watson checked me, and Sherlock brushed his fingers down my cheek. I had to fight the urge to cry. I hadn't meant to snap at the two of them, but Sherlock was driving me nuts and Watson wasn't much better! I was a little under the weather – not dying or … "What did you say, Watson?"

"I said that the reason you are not feeling well is most likely due to morning sickness." He had this grin on his face that I swear not an entire army couldn't knock off – even with nukes and an entire planet's worth of aircrafts and navy forces!

Looking up at Sherlock, I could see that he was as shocked as I felt. I just couldn't be that! We've been married a little over a month! I took a breath and stuttered out, "but – but, that is something women only get when they're …" Watson's grin got brighter and he nodded. This soon? Could it really be that I…? "You mean to say that I'm pregnant?"

When Watson nodded, I was terrified to look up at my husband. How was Sherlock going to react to this? But when I saw his hand touch my stomach, I looked into his dove gray eyes and saw that Sherlock was not only pleased by the announcement but seemingly was in awe of what the two of us had done. We knew that we were going to have children, but neither of us thought it would happen so soon. But then I noticed that Watson had a worried expression on his face.

"Nona, you once told me that in your century that nearly all women don't normally wear corsets for medical reasons?" He asked as I finished getting dressed again (yes, we were that comfortable that I trusted him like – actually more – doctors in my old time).

I thought back to some of our earlier conversations at Baker Street as Watson sat behind his desk and Sherlock and I sat in the chairs before him. "Yeah, it was found that corsets rearrange a woman's organs and changes the shape of women's ribcages. Can't wait till the brazier comes out in 1913."

Sherlock looked worriedly from me to Watson. "Will it harm the baby or Nona?"

Watson sighed. "Without a doubt, and most likely it could kill either or even both. I think that you'll agree Holmes that loosing either of them is unacceptable." Sherlock nodded in agreement. I just sat there numbly for a moment; I could lose the baby? This little life in me hadn't even made its presence really known yet, and already I could lose him or her? I will never understand why, but I was already completely in love with being a mom and the fact that it was Sherlock's baby in my belly. I didn't want to give this baby up to anything. Watson and Sherlock were both looking at me worriedly when I glance up at them, until I stated very clearly. "I'm not wearing it after we get home."

Sherlock smiled. I guess that he was still worried about losing me. Watson chuckled. "I thought as much, Nona. I expect to see you again for a check up in a couple of weeks. I'll even make it easy by coming by Baker Street. Let's go over this list, and then you can give this to Mrs. Hudson so she understands what is off of your diet for the mean time."

Watson okayed the coffee and tea (only at meals and tea time, and both had to be weakened to about a fourth of the normal strength), but salt was to be cut out as much as possible. No salt cured meats, but other meats were acceptable. And I had to eat more fruits and vegetables, bread, potatoes, rice, pasta, and oats. I was to drink a glass of water at every meal and one at least in between meals. No alcohol at all until after the baby was completely weaned. Best of all, **NO MORE CORSETS**! Sherlock just sat there smiling at me. I think he had accepted that our family was started and that when the time came he would have a wife and child to guard from Moran's air gun. We visited with Watson and Mary for a little while, but I was tired so we went home.

On the way home, Sherlock had his hand on my belly. His face was firm as usual to the outside world, but his eyes sparkled with the joy I knew was in his heart – a joy that was identical to the one in my heart. We had a baby on the way. It was still hard to believe. I was going to be a mother. Nona E. Holmes – associative detective and full partner in our detective agency, wife, Lady, and now mother as well. I couldn't help wondering if his hand was protecting a little boy or a little girl. The baby would be born later that year. 1898 would make our baby ten, 1908 our little one would be twenty. What a different world it would be with he or she in it.

The moment we got back home, I felt better. Sherlock was more careful as he helped me out of our carriage. Being a father was already changing him for the better it seemed. Mrs. Hudson was there at the door with a smile on her face watching Sherlock carry me over the inner threshold of the house. We had sent our luggage on to Baker Street before we left the station to head straight for Watson's office. Obviously that was how she knew to expect our return shortly. "Welcome Home!"

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I trust there were no callers while we were away." Sherlock's voice might have been business like, but his expression told both Mrs. Hudson and myself that he was glad to be home. "None until this morning, sir. A young woman wishing to speak with you about a missing sibling arrived just after breakfast. I told her that you were due back sometime today, and she said that she'd come back to see if you were in after lunch."

"Very good! Now, Nona has some instructions from Watson. I trust they will not be a hardship to follow." That had Mrs. Hudson worried in a heart beat. "Nona-bird, are you not feeling well?"

I had to giggle. I felt beyond great now that I was home, and I knew what was wrong on our honeymoon. "I feel better than well. I'm having a baby!" Mrs. Hudson crowed happily as she looked at the list. I had a craving and hoped she hadn't gotten far down the paper. "I was hoping that you might have some bacon stored away." Unfortunately, she had gotten through the entire list. "No salted meats. And you had better get upstairs and out of that corset! Now go on, while I make the two of you some lunch." And with that she went off for the kitchen.

I beamed as I rushed up those familiar seventeen steps, counting them in my head as I climbed. Soon I passed what had first been Watson's room, later my own, and lightly tapped on the door to the room I would start sharing with my husband that day on. I wasn't disappointed when I heard Sherlock call out, "come in, Mrs. Holmes."

With a grin I slid into our room and closed the door. I turned around to find that his old single bed had been replaced with a double! Sherlock too was smiling. "It would seem that we were not the only ones who were busy during our honeymoon." He came over and wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. "Now about this torture device called a corset, I believe that you are under doctor's orders to remove it for the duration of your pregnancy."

The look in his eyes melted me in all the right places. "And I suppose that my loving husband is offering to help me out of it?" That made him grin like a child. Slowly he began to unbutton my bodice, stopping to kiss my lips with each button he opened. After the fourth button we heard the doorbell ring. We both groaned, but accepted we would have to wait for tonight to have time alone. Then we heard Billy's voice. "Packages for you both Mr. and Mrs. Holmes."

I buttoned up my bodice and threw a couple of our suitcases on the bed and did my best to look like I had started unpacking. No need for the house to know what we were up to in our room. Then Sherlock opened the door. Billy, Grace, and Mrs. Hudson all brought in four packages and left us to open them on our own. I sighted a card on top of the first package and grinned as I opened and read it. "It's from mom. Seems I'm going to write very often to her. She said that this is a lot of things I will need. You don't think that she knows, do you, Sherlock?"

"If so, I know where many of your adoring traits originate from." He grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes. He would be Mr. Sarcastic today of all days! Quick as I could I open the first package, I burst into chuckles. "She knew!"

Sherlock came over, and after a quick peek at the contents of the box joined in my chuckles. "Well, I'd say that someone is going to love being a grandmother."

Contents of the first box were:

· **6 Maternity nightgowns**

· **3 Pairs of flat shoes**

· **4 Baby bonnets**

· **10 Maternity bras**

· **A Pregnancy Journal**

· **2 Baby books**

· **2 Stuffed bears**

· **And some Baby clothes for when we aren't in London (that is according to her note).**

Contents of the second box:

· **Baby soaps, lotions, and diaper rash gels**

· **My old Christening Blanket and Gown**

· **A Christening headband that could later be a garter for a little girl**

· **A Boy's Christening Gown (guess they didn't want to give away if it's a boy or girl)**

· **2 Baby carriers (to wear so one's arms don't get tired – I guessed that there were two in case one wore out)**

· **2 Nursing and Support pillows**

· **2 Cute baby outfits that said 'Change is Good'**

· **Another couple that said 'Dad's Precious Treasure', 'Mom's Precious Treasure', Grandpa and Grandma's Precious Treasure', and Uncle (or Aunt) with all of the baby's aunts and uncles on each side – even "Uncle" Watson and "Aunt" Mary**

· **And 2 stuffed chenille bunnies in blue and pink (how original)**

Contents of the third box:

Books!

· **2 'What to expect when you're expecting' books.**

· **'Beyond Jennifer & Jason, Madison & Montana' (A baby name book)**

· **'The expectant father: Facts, tips, and advice for Dad's-to-be' (clearly a book for Sherlock)**

· **'What to eat when you are expecting' (even mom's on my back about my diet!)**

· **'Mothering Multiples: Breastfeeding & caring for twins and more!!!'**

At that I looked up at Sherlock with a stunned look on both of our faces. "Love, do you think that mom is telling us something?" At first Sherlock didn't say a word, he simply rested a hand on my belly. Twins, maybe more? Suddenly I felt very light headed. But I wanted to finish unpacking my surprises.

· **2 'When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets, or Quads: A Complete Resource' books**

"Perhaps the extra books are for Watson." Sherlock choked out. I could see that he was in shock. I started to worry that maybe this was all too much too soon. After all we had only been married less than two months. But then my husband smirked. "Looks like mom is trying to give you an edge over most women in this age – seeing as many die due to complications and such. Mom obviously saw that I couldn't function with you, my Lady Nona."

I chuckled at that last bit and finished unpacking the box.

· **'A Child is Born'**

· **2 more baby name books**

· **'The Birth Book: Everything You Need to Know to Have a Safe and Satisfying Birth'**

· **'Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth'**

· **'Post Pregnancy Handbook'**

· **'Natural Health after Birth: The Complete Guide to Postpartum Wellness'**

· **'Rebounding from Childbirth: Toward Emotional Recovery'**

· **'Exercise after Pregnancy: How to Look and Feel Your Best'**

· **'Best Advice on Life After Baby Arrives: An iVillage Solutions Book'**

· **'Mothering the New Mother: Women's Feelings and Needs after Childbirth : A     Support and Resource Guide'**

· **'Model Mommy: Vendela's Plan for Emotional Support, Exercise, and Eating Right After Having a Baby'**

· **'You and Your Newborn Baby: A Guide to the First Months after Birth'**

· **'Pregnancy & Babycare'**

· **Books for babies and young children**

Contents of the fourth box:

· **Various maternity underclothes in different sizes (mom thinks of everything! ^_^)**

· **Bras and pads for breastfeeding**

· **Baby washcloths, towels, burping towels, and a baby bathtub**

· **Cloth diapers**

· **2 Baby brushes and combs**

· **6 Receiving blankets**

· **Baby socks and stockings**

· **4 Pacifiers**

· **Rattles**

I looked at it all and felt so overwhelmed and loved. Looking into my husband's eyes I saw that he felt the same. I think that it had started to sink in his mind that I was really pregnant with his baby … well, now it looked like more along the line of babies. I knew that I was happy but the reality hadn't set in for me yet. I was still numb in places with the shock of it.

Once we got everything unpacked and stored away I was exhausted. Sherlock got this heated look in his eyes as he sauntered towards me. "Now about where were we, Mrs. Holmes?"

I still felt a thrill whenever he called me that in that heated voice. I undid the top four buttons on my bodice and pulled him closer. "I think that we were about right here, my husband." I knew he loved hearing me say that.

Nonetheless, it took some time for me to just get disrobed. Once again, Sherlock kissed me with each button he undid – and there were twenty buttons on my bodice. After that were five more to undo my skirt. Each loosening to my corset strings he gave me one of his open mouthed kisses on my neck and shoulders like he had on the first night of our honeymoon. More kisses came with each corset fastener in the front. It felt so good to be out of that damn contraption when he tossed it on the floor, I had to sigh and take a deep breath – after all I wasn't just breathing for myself anymore. That made me smile; I was doing everything for two, or more, little lives that were growing inside of me. I finished taking off my underclothes to change into my future underclothes, but before I could Sherlock turned me around and got down on his knees in front of me. Then he planted two soft kisses right about where our kids were growing. I had tears in my eyes and joy in my heart as he whispered to them. "Hello our son and daughter. It's your father. We can't wait to hold you both." There was no way to know for sure how many kids were in me or if there were a boy and a girl growing in my stomach. "How can you be sure?"

Sherlock smiled as he rested his cheek on my belly. "Nona dear, mom sent books on multiple pregnancies as well as things for a boy and a girl – usually enough for one of each. That is how I know." Then he looked up at me with such adoration, happiness, and love in his eyes. "I love you, Nona Holmes." He stood and pulled me into his arms, holding his small family in his arms tenderly. I finally took it all in. We were having a son and a daughter. "And all three of us love you, Sherlock Holmes. Thank you for making all of my dreams come true, my sweet and wonderful husband." He kissed my forehead with tears in his eyes. "Thank you for making all the dreams I never dared dreamed of come true, my beloved wife."

***

**_Sherlock_** –

I was to be a father. That statement in itself still left me in wonder. Nona had in her belly our children, a son and a daughter. This woman who had turned my life upside down and righted so many wrongs of my past was now carrying to more twists into my world that suddenly I could not do without. Only but a year and a half before I thought that I would have no heirs, no wife to spend the rest of my years with, I sincerely believed that I would die alone. In fact I often saw my fate in my nightmares, and had done so the morning fate decided that I was wrong and needed a new companion and eventual consort to make my life whole. I had whispered to myself that there would never be anyone that dear to my heart in that way. Then I go to start my morning constitutions, I find this woman is in my bathroom – completely naked and climbing out of my tub. 

Oh, how that vision haunted me for months. Nona never knew, but she had me completely in that moment we first met. I never thought any woman could be so beautiful. But obviously she was a client, so I left and blew up at Watson. When she obviously could not be helped I didn't want her to stay. That vision of her beautiful body was still haunting my mind. When she spoke of that book it was only part of my prize by losing the 'war' as Watson so quaintly put it. Not long into our residency together she started touching and kissing me first thing every morning and off and on the rest of the day as the days and weeks progressed. I knew it was her way to pay me back for all of my sneers and taunts (especially after the picture hanging relativity experiment), and I would continue the goad her just so she would continue. Anything I could do to annoy her I did it, and my plan worked.

By the time that Lestrade first arrived, she had firmly establishing herself as a part of my life – though I would never have admitted such then. When Nona called him LeRat, I had to fight hard to not burst into laughter. She wasn't an ordinary Victorian woman, and that only made me hold her in my heart more so than at first. But, I knew that I couldn't let her ever know how I felt. Then I was a bastard, and I doubted that women in her time looked kindly on men like me. But, I wanted to show all of her remarkable talents off. Making remarkable coffee happened to be one of those talents I thoroughly enjoyed daily. That was why I asked it of her, and because I craved more of it (little wonder the pot emptied so quickly now that she was treating us with her blends) … and so I could finally tell her how I felt about her skill in my own way. That was one talent I was happy to see Lestrade too seemed to savor. Perhaps there was some hope for the man after all – just perhaps.

When Nona handed my magnifying glass over to me with that smile that said, '_what did you expect from me?_' I had to smile back. No Victorian woman would have deduced my need before I did, much less moved for the object in question. Watson, ah dear Watson, I think he knew of my growing love for our housemate even then. Lestrade didn't like it, but I had found another point in support of accepting that this female was a permanent part of my life. She wasn't afraid to make moves to help like some timid female of the day. I was waiting to speak until I examined the jewels, but she came up with a question of her own that was along my lines of thinking. She and I often shared the same thinking processes, another reason to keep her with our agency and in our lives. But then Lestrade had the impertinence to call her my staff nearly made me throw the man out. I focused on the gems to hide my annoyance as I introduced her. The only way I could explain at that moment … for I wasn't sure how long we had this remarkable female with us, or if she wanted any part of the life I had drawn Watson into. Being our neighbor aiding Mrs. Hudson was not a complete untruth and it was all the man deserved in way of explanation.

His discomfort was a pleasant sight, and a glance out of the corner of my eye towards the lady of the firm (or so it seemed to me at the time) showed me faintly that she too enjoyed it. When Nona began to ask very specific questions and looked as if she had a string of thought going utterly different from my own. I was curious as to what she saw and I did not – no, at that point I had no idea what the message was or if there was one. And then she solved it! No Victorian woman ever would have seen what my sweet Nona saw. I heard her sweet laughter in the kitchen, and it felt good to hear the sound. When she claimed that the money Lestrade sent her was not her own … that she had cheated, I knew then she had some kind of knowledge of mine and Watson's lives and felt badly for taking money that would have been in my pocket – money I would have secretly spent on her, mind you. Then she turned around and left to shop for everyone, including myself.

I knew from the victorious look in her eye leaving and returning that she was buying holiday gifts. She had been lost in thought off and on for days rather than reading the book I challenged her to digest, and had tried to ask shopkeepers I knew about gifts for men. It had to be for Watson, seeing as we were nothing but adversaries in games of supremacy in frustrating one another. Besides, I didn't want anything … never had in many years. When she came home so happy, I could tell she had finally decided on and bought gifts for the others. But I noticed from the window that she was getting out of a cab with a man I couldn't see clear enough to identify. When she rubbed off his kiss on her hand, I knew she was in a situation a lady should not be in. It wasn't my business … after all she was a grown woman. I had only looked out the window for her return because of it growing late. I was concerned for her safety as a roommate and associate – nothing more. For a long time I ignored the fear growing in my heart that scene stirred within me until it became too much. Finally I went and confronted her. She was obviously annoyed with my questioning her then pointed out that I was acting like a jealous lover … no, I wasn't … I was just concerned for her welfare. She didn't think I had feelings for her … she just couldn't know. How I felt was one thing, but I couldn't let her know. 

The next morning I found the watch. The first gift I had received in a long time. Then I deduced that it was my gift that had her lost in thought for so long. From the look of it she must have spent a large amount of her allowance and that ten pounds she got for solving the case. I dressed quickly and proudly pocketed my new watch. When I got to the door, I did all I could to get her attentions. Normally I would have checked the clock in the hall, but she saw me check the time by her gift. Her eyes told me she understood I was thanking her, even if Watson did not. Now it was my turn to fret over what I should have already gotten her for a gift.

I wanted to take her to the opera that night, but there were no tickets until nearly New Year's! Damn! I took the first box seats I could procure. It was a bit more than I would usually do for Watson, but all of London deserved to see the vivacious Nona Brown. Then again, she probably bought herself nothing for the holiday. She probably only had those few dresses that were not really appropriate for the evening. What I had left in my purse I turned over to Mrs. Hudson. She would know more about gowns and other woman trinkets than I, and she understood to keep it secret. Thankfully she returned with the gown before Nona returned home from running errands. I was pleased with the frock and only prayed that Nona would be as well. There was also a small circlet for her hair, gloves, dress shoes, opera glasses, and our landlady also procured as a gift from herself – a velvet opera cloak of the same fiery red color. The card itself was hard to write. I was not used to leaving any form of sentiment like this. It was cold and to the point, but I hoped that the evening would make up for what I lacked in that card.

The lady in question didn't return home until it was nearly too late to go to dinner as I had planned before the opera. Nona's reaction to my full dress was interesting when she returned, and it made me feel wonderful – though I wonder still what a blue plate special is, or I should say will be. Given that she was smiling and had a look in her eyes I had never myself been given, I deduced that whatever it would be it would be a compliment. The fact that I had to argue and usher her into her rooms nearly made me give away the surprise. She didn't see me standing on the stairway listening to her reaction. It was as I hoped; I had surprised her fully. But to see her was different. God, Watson had understated the fact. Nona was more than a simple seraph; she was a goddess. I had to go outside before I broke that wall that was needed to keep her from discovering my feelings for her and my dishonor.

Yet, that did nothing to hide it from her. She found out and still cared for me. When I tried to run her off, she stood by me. Until the day that I finally sent her away in tears, and it was as if my world had collapsed. My every waking moment was spent looking for her. She haunted my sleep in dreams of what might have been if I had told her my feelings, or in my nightmares of what could have happened to her because of my cold-heartedness. Our children playing by the fire with her lovingly smiling up at me, her still cold body with a look of fear frozen on her precious face – silenced by a murderer forever.

When we found her and I saw her struck down by Edwards, I felt my heart stop. The woman I so dearly loved was hurt and I helped to hand her over to the monster that had tried to destroy my family! It took Watson's cry to snap me back to the moment. She was so still, but the moment I pulled her into my arms she seemed to know me and snuggled closer. Then she woke in my arms with no memories, I wished that I had killed Darby. When she asked me for what I thought was impossible, ending my long drug use, I dared to try only for her. She suffered my harshness and still allowed me the choice of my future without making it all about her, I knew then that I had found my soul mate. Then she read into my question as the proposal I had meant it to be. I knew that Nona Brown was not an average woman, and she had to be there for me by some divine influence. Then I nearly lost her again. If Trish hadn't come to our time and did that CPR, we would have lost my love. Afterwards, Nona told me that my mother had procured her life by sending her to live with Watson and me, mostly because mother knew Nona was the perfect woman for me. How right my mother was.

Now Nona was my beautiful wife. Now she had two little lives within her that proved our love. I was still in awe of all that had came about to make me whole. I never knew how empty I was until into my life came in irrepressible Nona Brown – no, Lady Nona Holmes.

After we ate lunch, her morning sickness seemed to ease, Nona tried to help Mrs. Hudson and Grace with the dishes. Both women soundly told my angel to rest, much to Nona's displeasure. I redirected her attentions quickly before she could upset herself. "Instead of the dishes, why don't you and I decide on the children's names until that young woman comes by?"

"Well, we can at least come up with a few ideas I guess. But, I am helping with dinner." Nona said firmly before going to our room to retrieve the baby name book.

Mrs. Hudson looked at me with a concerned look on her face. "Send Billy up. I will invite Watson and Mary over for dinner. Company should stop her from over exerting herself."

"Thank you Mr. Holmes." She whispered before leaving the room. Quickly I scribbled a note explaining that Nona needed some distraction to keep her from chores, and would he and Mary like to come over for dinner. Billy made it up to the sitting room, got the note, and was able to congratulate Nona before running off. "He's so sweet. So, where's he running off to?"

"A note to Watson. I figured that we should thank him for the good news properly. Does him and Mary coming over for dinner sound agreeable?" I knew she would not like if she knew why I really asked Watson and Mary to come. Nona smiled and curled in my arms. "Sounds great. I'll get to work on it after the interview. Now, which book do you care to try first?"

Nona asked me if I would be against calling our daughter Violet – since it was my mother that brought us together. I loved the idea, and I knew father and my brothers would love it just as much. Now our son's first name was not as easy, in fact we didn't agree on one at all and the young woman, a Miss. Emily Anson, returned not long after lunch.  
  


The case was a simple one to solve. It seemed that her drunkard father had thrown out her brother some days before, and then herself very recently. When she gave the boy's name, Nona and I both knew where he was. I left to find Wiggins while Nona talked the young woman into eating the soup Mrs. Hudson had brought up without call.

Thomas had been taken in by Wiggins and his family, and was known by the irregulars as Tommy. Wiggins wasn't hard to track, and never was (which was why I named him the leader). Tommy on the other hand was a little harder to find. It seemed that he was looking for his missing sister after going to his former home and finding that she shared his fate. Once we collected him, the three of us returned to Baker Street to find Mary and another lady visiting with Nona. My angel had a happy smile on her face. Tommy saw his sister and rushed into her arms, both breaking down into tears at being reunited. I hoped that the twins my wife was carrying would grow to be that close. It would make being a parent somewhat easier than two children constantly at one another's throats.

"Sherlock, this is Mary's friend, Mrs. Veronica Tritons. Mrs. Tritons, this is my husband, Sherlock Holmes." Nona enjoyed say that; her eyes plainly said so. I properly kissed the elderly Mrs. Tritons' hand. "A pleasure, Mrs. Tritons. And it is good to see you again, Mary."

"Thank you, Holmes. Mrs. Tritons came with me to offer some help to Miss. Anson and her brother." Mary explained. I sat in my chair, interested in this turn of events. "How so?"

Mrs. Tritons smiled sweetly at the still hugging siblings. "I lost all of my family in that terrible fire that destroyed the country home of the Kendall's. My husband, only daughter, and grandchildren were visiting and never escaped the house. Mr. Holmes, I am an old woman. My only other family is an impossible nephew I disowned not long before the fire. He was proven to have caused the fire to gain my fortune. I want to give someone in a bad time in his or her life a chance for a better life. I want to give Emily and Thomas that chance."

Mrs. Tritons seemed genuine in her explanation. She was also a friend of Mary's it seemed, which gave her more credit than most women. Still, there were few women I trusted, and only one living that I trusted without a doubt. When Nona gave me her slight nod, I gave in. "That it seem would be up to the children, but I would like to keep contact with them." I might have given them my blessings, but that didn't mean that I wouldn't be a hand in their lives.

"I wouldn't say anything against you or your wife's say. If it weren't for the two of you, I would have died alone and without any to leave my legacy to. Children, what do you wish?" She turned to the siblings, who looked at one another uncertainly.

As the eldest of the two, Emily spoke up. "I think it would be better than living on the streets and risking our father bring us more harm, or bring hardship on others who cannot afford to take us in. Tommy?" He looked up at his sister and nodded. So, their future was secured.

Mrs. Tritons smiled gently with a tear in her eye as she stood shakily. Tommy was a good boy and helped her stand. After some farewells, the trio and Wiggins left. That left Mary and Nona talking about the babies. I read through a few of the newspapers Mrs. Hudson had collected for me during my and Nona's honeymoon as they talked. In her voice I could tell my love was tired, but I didn't want to upset her by trying to get her to lie down. I was finished with my third paper when I noticed Nona had drifted off to sleep while Mary was telling her a story in a gentle voice. Interesting strategy, lull my beloved into falling asleep where she was. Mary smiled and waved goodbye as she left quietly.

I looked at my sleeping wife and remembered that first morning we were together. I sat in a nearby chair watching her sleep. She was at peace and happy. That was what I wanted to make her feel. Looking at her sleeping on the sofa, I saw that same look of peace and joy resting on her face. Her hand was lying on her stomach, and I knew she was thinking about our children. Gently as I could, I picked her up and carried her off to our room. Luckily Billy was in the hall, so he opened the door for me. I quietly gave him orders that no one was to knock on the door unless it was a case, or time to get ready for Mary and Watson's visit later that evening. He agreed and gently closed the door back as he left and I laid Nona on the bed. She woke just as her head touched the pillow. "What?"

"You fell asleep. I decided in here would be a more comfortable place to nap." I whispered into her ear.

Nona however had a mood swing, and her words were tainted with anger. "But, Mary is visiting!"

I shook my head, remembering that she wasn't really angry – it was just that she was tired. Her stomach had given her precious little rest during our honeymoon – that is combined with our alone time when she seemed starved for my attentions. "She saw that you dosed off and left so you could rest and she could get ready for dinner tonight."

"I don't need to sleep! It is the middle of the day, and there are things that have to be done before dinner! I am going to help." She spat at me hatefully. I forced myself to remain calm. After all, I put her through very much the same grief during my detoxing not long before. "Sweetheart, you do need to rest. The babies get all of their energy from you, am I right? And I'd be willing to wager that right now they need as much as they can get. If you use it all up cleaning and cooking, what will they use to grow?"

Nona's eyes filled with tears. She hadn't thought about that obviously. "I'm sorry. I'm not being a good mom." At that she broke down into sobs and cried in my arms. Not knowing when she was going to suffer through these changes of moods or what would set them off, how was I going to cope? "Nona, you are a wonderful mother and a wonderful wife. It is just right now, being a mother should be your top priority rather than keeping up our home. Mrs. Hudson and Grace understand you need to rest, they also understand that you can't help with the chores. That was one of the reasons our landlady worked so hard to find us a housekeeper. Mrs. Hudson was hoping that you would need to stop helping with the chores because of a baby. She doesn't want you to have to cook and clean right now. All we are to focus on is our children. Think of us now as being like my brother, Sherrinford, and his wife. They don't do all the things you are used to doing."

"But I feel like a leech! I'm used to working and paying for my way in life!" Nona sobbed harder. I didn't like to see her so upset, and I doubted that it was healthy for our children either. "Nona, your first duty is to our children and me. And then we also have our business that you help me run. You are not a leech if you let Mrs. Hudson and Grace do the housework."

She snuggled tighter in my arms, and couldn't help but smile at how good that felt. Nona slowly let her tears fade and her sobs quiet down. "Do you really feel that way?" I hugged her tighter slightly before kissing the top of her head. "I wouldn't say such if I didn't mean it love. How about we lay here and take a nap together?"

"What about the office, and dinner?" She finally coughed out the last of her tears, and wrapped her arms tight around my neck. "We have no cases currently and as for dinner, Mrs. Hudson and Grace can take care of that. You and I are both worn out from our honeymoon and the excitement of discovering the twins. Would you rest easier with my holding you close?" Nona looked up with such happiness in her eyes, if I could only make her that happy all of the time. She nodded excitedly and I laid down beside her on our new bed for the first time.

***

**_Nona_** –

I couldn't believe that I had fallen asleep on poor Mary like that! I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I would have slept on, but I felt my body settle down on our new bed. My eyes snapped open. I didn't mean to break down like I did, but it all hit me. Was I going to be a good mother? Was I leeching off of my husband? Shouldn't I be up helping with the housework? What about dinner? He laid down on the open side of our bed, and instantly I was in his arms with my head on his chest. Again I felt my husband's arms wrap around me as he settled beside me, and I breathed in his scent deep. That was enough to make me want to stay in these strong arms forever. Sherlock was right when he said that our kids needed all of the energy I could give them. Besides, I wasn't going to pass up any chance to snuggle in his arms for any amount of time. It was almost like we were still on our honeymoon. I knew nothing else, because I fell asleep again.

After three hours of sleep, I woke to my husband softly rubbing my back. This was a moment I once dreamt of, but brushed it off as impossible – even after I moved into 221b. I groaned and stretched as I lazily smiled and look up into the softest gray eyes I had ever seen in my life. Sherlock had a satisfied smile on his face as he brought up one hand to rub my cheek with his thumb. "Sleep well, Mrs. Holmes?"

"You love calling me that, don't you?" I sighed as I snuggled even closer, knowing that before long my belly would make this face-to-face closeness unachievable. Sherlock chuckled as he sighed and kissed my forehead. "Of course I do. After only saying that in my dreams and fantasies, it is reassuring to say it in reality. So, how did you and our children rest, Mrs. Holmes?"

The sneaky smirk on his face made me chuckle. Heaven help me if our children inherit it from him! "Very well. I'm sorry about earlier. I …"

"You were suffering from the hormones of your pregnancy." That shocked me, Sherlock's smirk got worse. "You rolled over for a time, but I didn't want to leave you or the children. I got one of your pregnancy books and found the explanation. I have read a good bit of it actually. But, when you turned back towards me, I pulled you back on my chest and enjoyed the feel of my family in my arms." I giggled as he tightened his embrace slightly. And then came the knock on the door.

"Yes, Billy?"

"Your father and brothers are here sir. They say that they want to see you and Mrs. Holmes. I don't know if it is a case or not." The sweet kid called through the door. I smiled and nodded before Sherlock could ask the most obvious of questions. With a smile that lit up his eyes he called back. "Bring them up, Billy. Mrs. Holmes and I will be in the sitting room shortly."

A few minutes later we walked in on the trio, all of whom had knowing looks on their faces that wanted to smack off. "I needed a nap, and Sherlock was making sure I didn't slip out of our room to do housework. So, get that idea out of your heads now!"

Oops, another mood swing attack. Sherlock chuckled at our family's shocked expressions, as I sat at the table in a mood to kill. "Nona is quite correct. She is under doctor's orders to rest."

"Are you feeling well, my new sister?" Sherrinford looked so worried, but him calling me his sister made me feel better despite my woozy stomach. "I just had an uneasy stomach.  Sherlock, I thought was being overprotective but insisted I visit Watson as soon as we got back to London."

"I was right though." He smirked at me. God, I wanted to smack his face for that one. I think that dad understood that, and saw what was happening before him. "Do my children have some news for us?" I groaned as I sat back and sighed. "A little obvious dad. Couldn't have you said something along the lines of first grandchild rather than your future grandchildren? You just had to jinx Sherlock and I like this!"

Dad busted out laughing, while my dear brothers looked absolutely clueless. "Okay, let's put it this way. Virgil has two cousins on the way – one will wear a dress and one will be in pants!" Finally the elder brothers understood! Sherlock grinned at me with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Sherlock and I were then surrounded with congratulations and good will from our family. Dad hugged me close and tight. "Thank you my daughter, for making our family whole and grow."

"We should celebrate!" Sherrinford chuckled, obviously happy at the prospect of finally becoming an uncle. I shook my head, but Sherlock explained the situation. "We have already invited Watson and Mary over for dinner tonight."

"Sherlock, I am certain they will not be adverse to joining in with our celebrations." Mycroft admonished.

I fought off the urge to scream, but I think it still showed. "And what about the dinner that everyone refuses to let me help with?" A knock at the door brought our so sweet landlady into the room with coffee and hot water to weaken mine with. "That hasn't been set into full motion as of yet. Go on and celebrate. After all that the two of you have gone through, I think that you both deserve it. And, with Dr. Watson there, I know you won't be breaking your diet."

The men chuckled while I felt like dying. No one trusted me.

***

**_Sherlock_** –

Seeing tears in my wife's eyes told me that we had taken the joking too far. The next few months obviously were going to be tedious at the least. "Nona, do you really want to suffer with indigestion?" When she shook her head I knelt beside her and rubbed my thumb across her cheek. "Then, you have to watch what you eat for you and the twins. Besides it would be rude to only celebrate with our friends, as nearly all of our family is here."

Sherrinford corrected me. "All of our current family is here in London. Trish, Holly, and Virgil are at the hotel right now getting ready for us to drag you two over to pick them up."

Nona's emotions picked up at that. "Holly, Trish, and Virgil are here? Oh Sherlock, I haven't seen them in so long!"

The glittering in her eyes decided for me. Besides Watson and Mary were very much family to Nona and myself. I shipped one of the irregulars this time to alert Watson of the change in our plans. Half-hour later, we assembled in two carriages and were carried off to a surprise Mycroft had planned for Trish, Nona, and myself – Dinner with the Queen.

Despite the fact that the Queen was not amused that Nona was "inflicted with the unhappy occupation of motherhood" so soon into our marriage, Her Majesty was happy for my dear wife's joy. The fact that Nona and I were expecting twins made her opinion worse. Nona however told the Queen that she personally hoped for many children because she grew up in a large family and couldn't imagine a life with a small one.

It was difficult to bite back my chuckle at that. Oh, how expressive a wife I had been blessed with! Yet, I could just imagine that tongue in the mouth of a little girl and little boy – both of whom in the terrible two years and as teenagers. What had Nona and I gotten ourselves into?

After dessert, the Queen and Mycroft were forced to close the evening early because of government secrets. The rest of us left the Palace in good spirits, and Nona showed signs of needing more sleep. I spied a few more of her yawns than I know she suspected. In fact, my angel ended up dosing off against my shoulder in the cab ride home. It was very much like the night Watson and we had went to the opera for the first time together. Sherrinford and Watson helped me to get her somewhat easily out of the carriage, and then Virgil jumped out and unlocked the door using Watson's old key. At the door everyone bid Nona and I a goodnight and left.

Quietly I made it partway up the stairs with my wife safe in my arms when I noticed dear Mrs. Hudson lock the door for me. No words were said either way. The thanks and welcomes were heartfelt and sent only by gesture and silence. Years of being under the same roof truly had turned this woman into an aunt of sorts – one who knew me all too well.

At first I was just going to let Nona sleep without trying to get her undressed, but then she woke in the middle of the night to go to the facilities. She struggled to get her gown off, and I got up to help before she had a break down. I must say that undressing my wife is a pleasure, but now she seemed to enjoy the activity more so than before at times. Victorians are taught that there is to be no love making during a pregnancy, but I was glad I had finished that first book mom left for us before she and the family returned to the future. My beloved wife seemed nearly insatiable and wild from the hormones in her blood. But we were both soon taken care of. Nona fell back asleep in moments, and I was satiated fully as I joined her. I hadn't slept long before she was in the facilities once again. Obviously I'd have to make sure she napped sometime during the following day if we had no cases, as if I didn't enjoy that.

***

**_Nona_** –

God! It felt like as soon as Sherlock laid me on our bed (yes, I was enjoying him carrying me into the house again) and I'd close my eyes I needed to pee! When I got back I decided to get into my more comfortable nightdress. I felt so uncoordinated, and nearly came to tears trying to undress. Sherlock got up and I was wrapped in his warm embrace. Soon he had me undressed and in my nightdress. I felt this need to be his wife in our bed. Thankfully Sherlock not only understood I needed him more as my lover rather than husband that first night, but also that my breasts were sore because they were getting ready to feed our kids. It felt good and I dose off fast after we satisfied each other, but sleep didn't keep me out long before I had to go again! He never got up, but I could tell by the change in his breathing that I woke Sherlock up with all of my going to the bathroom. I have the most understanding and sometimes infuriating husband in the world! 

The next morning I woke up with a major headache and the urge to puke hitting me even harder than ever. Sherlock seemed to pick up on it and talked to Mrs. Hudson. We tried dry toast and ginger tea, but it all came up – in fact I only barely made it to the toilet. I went back to bed after I nearly fainted coming out of the bathroom. Thankfully Sherlock was right there and caught me. Despite my arguments of being fine, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson overruled me and sent Billy to get Watson.

Watson came by and told us that everything was normal, and I should try to ease food and liquids in little by little. At first that worked, but by lunch everything came back up again. At least I got some sleep in, but even that was sporadic at best. I thought that pregnancy was supposed to be happy and joyful.

We struggled with my stomach for about three weeks before it came under control. Unfortunately, Sherlock became intrigued by the changes in my body because of the pregnancy. The change in my breasts, my moods, my weak stomach … at least it kept him off of the drugs, but at times it could be so annoying! The mystery of which twin will be born first, and where they were laying in my belly helped as well. Thankfully those questions were not as bad as the rest.

One morning I found some spotting on my face. I wondered about it since I was spending most of my time inside to limit any danger to me or the twins by Moriarty or his associates.  Watson explained that it was normal. According to the books it is because of these damn hormones! Why can't it be like it was on TV? On second thought, most of those stories had something bad happen to the baby or mother – no thanks; I'll take the pregnancy I have right now. Knowing that most others died in childbirth, and a large group of the children too died or did soon after, I was worried more often than not. I wanted to be there to watch my babies grow up and have a hand in their lives by being among the living. However, I didn't want to lose the munchkins causing my upset stomach.

That night was when Sherlock got the letter I had been dreading since I got my memories back. Before we came back to Victorian England, Trish and I always suspected that Sherlock had fallen in love with Irene Adler, and possibly had children with her. Now I was stuck dealing with it. Here I was puking, irritable, and moody, with a still blotchy face. Compared with '**_the_** woman', how could ugly Nona E. Holmes stand a chance?

Watson actually came by that night to check up on me. And the famous talk on marriage suiting one of them in the start of the story was not Sherlock commenting on Watson – in fact it was the opposite! Watson really understates his intelligence and observation skills in the stories – skills he had naturally as a surgeon, but Sherlock had helped to hone them in the years they and I lived together.

"Why didn't the two of you tell me about those cases you solved on your honeymoon?" Poor Watson seemed so hurt by it.

I smirked and shook my head. "Watson, we only solved one case on our honeymoon. The other two were recently, and one of them Sherlock wouldn't even let me help with."

"You needed your rest, Nona. And it was a nothing that only took two days to solve." Sherlock looked at me worriedly. I had been extra moody the moment he read that letter to me. He wanted me to deduce what I could of it. I told him this had been one of my somewhat favorite stories. How could I tell him I knew he'd have an affair with that slut Irene? How would I be able to get past that another woman could possible bear his children?

Watson chuckled. "At least we can all safely deduce that marriage suits you well, Holmes. I think that you have put on some weight!" I couldn't hold back my chuckle. "Sympathetic pregnancy symptoms. He's eating for me and the babies."

"No, I eat to make a very beautiful woman happy." He didn't understand why I took his words the wrong way. Watson blessedly interceded. "I suspect at least three pounds more are on your bones, Holmes. What do you think, Nona? Maybe more?" I smirked, thinking how smutty I could have gotten, but that kind of pillow talked looked to be over for my marriage. I just knew I would never forgive him completely after he would have his affair. "He's gained a grand total of seven pounds since you sprung the surprise on us, Watson."

Watson whistled at that. "And here I was telling Mary he'd put on no more than that and an additional half pound."

I cracked up laughing for the first time in hours. Sherlock's expression brightened at the sound. I hated punishing him for an act he had not yet committed, but the knowledge hurt me terribly. "How much did Mary bet you he'd gain?" Watson smiled secretively. "Ten."

Sherlock and I both chuckled at that. He stood by the fire and looked over Watson in that introspective way that told me my husband was warming up his brain for the case ahead. If he only knew what I saw lay before us with this case, I doubt he would have taken it. "Practice has been getting better I see. No wonder, such a fine doctor is difficult to find in London."

"How did you know that, Holmes?" Watson gasped in shock. Sherlock shook his head – "I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?"

"My dear Holmes," Watson was startled, but I knew the truth. I kept my mouth shut as the good doctor continued on. "This is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out."

"It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be a very active member of the medical profession. Seeing as you had not that much work in the past, those markers were not as pronounced when Nona and I last visited your consulting rooms. Yet, here you are back in the area to give Nona and I ease in seeing you for her usual check-up early? Your practice has built up quite nicely, or else I am very wrong."

Watson chuckled heartily. "When I hear you give your reasons the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours."

"Quite so," Sherlock nodded as he fingered his pipe. He had been cutting back on his smoking and only lighting up when there was little chance of the babies and I being affected. He threw himself into his armchair after longingly looking at me. He knew that now was not the time to talk about our problems. His focus returned to Watson. "You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room." I smirked at that question. Reading the interaction and living it I had learn in living with them often was very different.

"Frequently."

"How often?"

"Well, some hundreds of times."

"Then how many are there?"

"How many? I don't know."

I had to chuckle at that! I had counted them my first night here. I remember how Watson looked at me so strangely as I straggled up them behind him. Again I saw my husband's eyes light up with joy at the sound of my laughter. Watson began to slowly understand. "Nona that was why you climbed the stairs so slowly that first night? You were counting them?" I nodded. After a breath I was able to calm down a bit. "It was this case that told me the number, and I just had to double check them!" I busted out in laughter again, happy that Watson joined with me. Sherlock smiled at me. "Nona has both seen and observed. And that number would be …" Knowing what my husband wanted I gave in, "seventeen."

"Quite so!" Sherlock smiled as if I had erased his fears again. Now, if he could do the same with mine. "By the way Watson, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this." Sherlock threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper that had been lying open upon the table and fought to not visibly wince at that. He had wanted me to read it, but I only glanced at it while I told him of how I knew this case well. He looked over at Watson and continued. "It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud."

The note was undated, and without either signature or address, just like Watson had described it in the story. He read it out loud and I fought with my breaking heart. "There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock, a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask."

Watson shook his head. "This is indeed a mystery. What do you imagine that it means?"

Sherlock waved his hand before his face. "I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?"

Watson sat there looking over the note carefully. "The man who wrote it was presumably well to do. Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff."

"Peculiar -- that is the very word," Sherlock said. "It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light."

I felt like an idiot, and I was sure my face showed it! I forgot all about the watermark bit! My dear husband was hurt because I didn't see that he was trying to give me a lesson in deduction. I walked over and Watson lent the note to me. It was just as he described it in the story. A large "E" with a small "g," a "P," and a large "G" with a small "f" woven into the texture of the paper. Sherlock looked a little better in his heart at my endeavor. At least I was helping.

"What do the two of you make of that?" He asked us both but it was Watson who answered first. "The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather."

"Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.'

Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer." Sherlock looked through the heavy brown book he took down from the nearby shelf. "Eglow, Eglonitz -- here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country -- in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, what do the two of you make of that?" His eyes sparkled, but my love hadn't forgotten that something in this case I disliked at the least – I could see that clearly.

"The paper was made in Bohemia," Watson said with feeling. My words were still very flat as I pointed out one thing I knew from the story. "Plus he would have to be a noble – who else in that area would have the money to be extravagant with his choice of paper?"

"Precisely. And the nobleman who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence -- 'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German nobleman who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."

'The sounds of horses' hooves and wheels grating against the curb announced our guest's arrival.' Just like Watson would later write. And Sherlock indeed whistled. "A pair, by the sound." He leapt up and looked out the window. I joined him and was happy that he wrapped an arm around my slightly larger waist. Not yet showing, but I was not the thin young woman that my husband had married not long before either. I rested against him for a moment as the man disembarked the carriage. "Yes, a nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson and Nona, if there is nothing else."

When we heard the bell ring Watson got up to go. "I think that I had better go, Holmes."

I agreed and started to pull away so I could leave the room as well, but Sherlock gently tightened his grip on me as he looked over at our friend.  "Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell and my dearest wife. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it. Unless you need some rest now, Nona?"

Good old Watson saw the obvious. "But your client --"

Sherlock again brushed his hand through the air above us. "Never mind him. I may want both of your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention. Sit here and rest some, Nona. We will get through this quickly, if my suspicions are correct."

Before I could say a word that slow and heavy step I remembered from the tale paused immediately outside the door. No way out of this, so I nodded and relaxed back somewhat on the sofa. Then there was that loud and authoritative tap, the tap to end my happy marriage.

"Come in!" Sherlock called out.

In came our client. I found that, even with **_my_** imagination, I grossly understated the ostentatiousness of this guy's appearance! Powerful yes, but definitively not my type at all. He had on that mask, and looked almost like a royal criminal to me. The poor guy had no clue as to who was who. Can't blame him, I didn't know Watson when I first met him. "You had my note? I told you that I would call."

"Pray take a seat," Sherlock said and indicated the seat before the three of us. I could see in his body language that he wanted to burst into laugher so badly. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, and my wife, Nona, both of whom are occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honor to address?"

"You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. And I would only hope that your wife too is of the same such honor as you and your friend. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone."

Watson and I both got up to go, but Sherlock caught Watson by the wrist and pushed him back into my chair while shaking his head softly at me. "It is all, or none," he said with a look of warning towards the client. I wasn't the only one insulted by this royal pain obviously. "You may say before this gentleman and my wife anything which you may say to me."

The client shrugged his shoulders. "Then I must begin by binding all three of you to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance.

At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history."

"I promise," Sherlock nodded.

"And I." Watson echoed. I sat up a little straighter to ease the pain in my back. "So do I."

The client summed me up negatively with his eyes and open facial expressions as he continued on. "You will excuse this mask. The august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own."

"I was aware of it," Sherlock sighed dryly. I had to fight off my need to laugh. His microsecond smile told me that had been his plan. The Royal Gaffe did not impress my husband any more than I have ever been of the Regal Dodo in my entire life. The King had no idea of the truth, but felt the same indignation we had at the start. "The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia."

"I was also aware of that," Sherlock murmured, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes. The look in the King's eyes was priceless. He had heard all about the hunting Sherlock Holmes, and now gets the thinking detective instead. Sherlock slowly opened his eyes and sighed with impatience. "If your Majesty would condescend to state your case, I should be better able to advise you."

The King truly did jump out of his chair like he had been shot out of a cannon and paced up and down the room like a mad man. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. "You are right," he cried; "I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?"

"Why, indeed?" murmured Sherlock as I rolled my eyes to his enjoyment and the King's irritation. "Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia."

"But you can understand," he said as he sat back down and passed his hand over his high white forehead. He looked at me as if trying to understand why I was not impressed and fawning over him like a woman should a Royal in his mind at least. Sorry, no special treatment from this woman Kingie. "You can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you."

"Then, pray consult," Sherlock said, as he shut his eyes once more.

"The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well known adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you."

"Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor," murmured Sherlock without opening his eyes. 

"Let me see!" Sherlock said as he read it out loud with little interest. "Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858. Contralto -- hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw -- yes! Retired from operatic stage -- ha! Living in London -- quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back."

"Precisely so. But how --"

"Was there a secret marriage?"

"None."

"No legal papers or certificates?"

"None."

"Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?"

"There is the writing."

"Pooh, pooh! Forgery."

"My private note-paper."

"Stolen."

"My own seal."

"Imitated."

"My photograph."

"Bought."

"We were both in the photograph."

That had Sherlock without an answer. "Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion."

"I was mad -- insane." I thought to myself, *_no you were and still are just a simpleton and an idiot._*

"You have compromised yourself seriously."

"I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now." I shook my head and wondered if that was the excuse of the age now – I was just a kid still! Pathetic if I do say so myself.

"It must be recovered."

"We have tried and failed."

"Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought."

"She will not sell."

"Stolen, then."

"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she traveled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result." 

"No sign of it?"

"Absolutely none."

Sherlock laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he.

"But a very serious one to me," The King said witheringly. As if the entire world revolved around him. One reality check for the dork in the pretentious get up, please!

"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"

"To ruin me." I couldn't help wondering if that would really be a bad thing. Now would it? Honestly?

The King went over his up coming marriage, the bride and her family, and Irene's plan pretty much like Watson wrote it. When the King went on and on about how beautiful Irene Adler was and what a great mind she had, I had to bite my lips to keep them shut. That miffed me hard, that this so called King had seemingly forgotten the detective's wife was in the room as well. It was bad enough that the bitch would get in bed with my husband and get knocked up by him in all likelihood, but o hear one of her past lovers go on and on about it – it was almost too much for my stomach, nerves, mind, and heart. Sherlock however noticed my pain, and his voice echoed it. "You are sure that she has not sent it yet?"

"I am sure." The King had to be a complete numbskull! He acted as if there was no indiscretion whatsoever. 

Sherlock's body language told me that he was pissed though. He was probably thinking of getting money together for our kids, but I could see he was on the edge of rejecting the case. "And why?"

"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday."

"Oh, then we have three days yet," Sherlock said with a yawn that made me do the same in response. "That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of grave importance to look into just at present. And my unrivaled wife does need her rest at the moment. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?"

"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm." He stood with no word of excuse for his behavior. In fact I think I saw him look me over again for a second before sniffing haughtily as he adjusted his outfit!

"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."

"Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety."

"Then, as to money?" Sherlock couldn't make the King pay in words, but I knew he would with hard cash. Oh well, with two babies on the way and an unknown amount just waiting to have their turn in my womb, we could use it.

"You have carte blanche." That brought the sound of 'cha-ching' to my mind. Pay dirt for all the months we were without work.

"Absolutely?" 

"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph."

"And for present expenses?"

The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table.

"There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes," he said. Sherlock wrote out a receipt and handed it to the King. A thousand pounds, well that buys the stuff for a nursery and pays Watson for his services as well.

"And Mademoiselle's address?" he asked. I heard in his voice that he was tired of this snob.

"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood." Sherlock wrote that down. "One other question, was the photograph a cabinet?"

"It was."

"Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. And goodnight, Watson," he added, as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to call tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you and Nona."

***

About an hour later Sherlock and I were lying in bed, but I could feel that he was still irked because of the King's rudeness. "How dare he disregard my wife right in front of me? And have the nerve to slight and ignore you twice in the same interview!"

I was really tired, and didn't want to think about what I saw coming. "Holmes, let's go to sleep. It is over with and done already. Besides you have a big job ahead of you tomorrow."

For a moment it was deafly silent, so silent that I could feel his pain. But his voice was what hurt me worse. "It has been a time since you used my surname, Nona."

"Oh God, Sherlock I …" but it was too late. He had turn over, and I knew he didn't want to talk. I had just driven off my husband – possibly into the arms of another woman. I laid back down and quietly cried myself to sleep.

I woke up to his warm hand softly shaking me. The pain in his eyes ripped deep into my heart. Then I realized why. I had tearstains still on my face from the night before. "Sherlock, I …" He pulled me into his arms and held me tight as my tears erupted once again. His voice was hoarse and full of pain. "I am so sorry, love. Whatever I did to hurt you …"

"It's not you. I'm scared of losing you. I'm so ugly!" I broke down hard. I loved this man so much that I couldn't see my life without him in it.

Sherlock sighed and pulled me into a deep kiss. I gobbled every moment of it, wondering how many more I had left. He had tears in his eyes as well. "Nona, why would you think that? I love only you."

"But I am so ugly and she is so … so …" I cried some more against his chest. Sherlock picked up on my heartbreak and quickly as ever deduced what was tumbling in my mind and heart. "Is all of this because of Ms. Adler? Why would I want an ordinary woman, Nona?"

"But, she's just like me!" Sherlock shook his head. "She can be nothing like you, my angel. This Irene Adler may be a beautiful woman, but I married the most beautiful of angels. I will not go a step down from your divine side to give her a taste. Too bland in reality."

I had to giggle through my tears. It was rare to hear my husband's voice so utterly lost in love that he doesn't comment on sounding like our family doctor. This time he swallowed my hungry kisses and laid me back on our bed. For over an hour he physically proved his words to me until we were both spent. Afterwards we were both pleasantly surprised to find a small welt in my belly. Our children had made themselves known. Sherlock planted two gentle kisses on that swelling, just as he had a few weeks before when my stomach was flat.

He sat down and ate breakfast to make certain I attempted to swallow something. To everyone's joy I wasn't as ill as every other breakfast before, and the food stayed down. And then he had to (very regrettably) leave. He hurriedly changed and put on his makeup. Then he was off.

I slid into the bathtub and had a nice long soak (making sure I gave the babies a good cleaning). I was extra careful when I was getting out of the tub, and chuckled when I thought back on that long ago morning I first met my now husband. I wondered if I would ever tell that story to our children, maybe someday.

I got dressed and was thrilled to find that Grace had made me a pot of peppermint tea! I had been relegated to the role of a Lady by my marriage to 'Sir' Sherlock, and Grace reminded me of that when she handed me a pregnancy book that I had been reading the previous day and poured me a cup of tea. "You and Mrs. Hudson are not going to let me lift a finger to help, are you Grace?"

"No, Mrs. Holmes. You are to rest up. Believe me, I remember how it was just carrying one baby. I can't imagine carrying two at the same time." She chuckled and smiled at me.

I sighed. She really was a great maid and friend. "I'll stop arguing about helping the two of you on one condition. That you call me Nona like everyone else." Grace chuckled and agreed. I settled myself on the sofa and began to read.

Most of the day was uneventful. I ate a snack of fruit and cheese that Billy brought up to me with the mail. One letter was from dad. He wondered how his kids and grandchildren were, and when the four of us were going to visit him. One came from Holly, saying about the same thing. One from Virgil telling us how he did in school (he had starting going to boarding school not long after my memories returned), how he missed us, he hoped to see us during his next break (I promised myself to talk Sherlock into it), asking how all of us were, and telling us of two cases he solved while in school (he was definitely going to be a detective like his celebrated uncle). The rest, which were addressed to my husband, went (well I know that I don't have to explain that one).

But about a quarter to two Billy knocked on the door and presented me with a card. I was in shock as I read it. 'Ms. Irene Adler' "Billy, ask Mrs. Hudson or your mother to send up another pot of tea, and send Ms. Adler in."

What did that incorrigible woman want with me? She looked at me critically. "I did not know that Mr. Holmes had female help on his staff."

"I believe that I am more than staff, Ms. Adler. I am Nona Holmes, Sherlock is my husband." I said with as much politeness as I could muster at that moment. She glanced me over even more critically and was fighting back a polite smirk. I on the other hand was fighting the urge to kick her out. "My husband happens to be out at that moment, Ms. Adler. But, perhaps I can be of some assistance?"

"It is doubtful. I came to see if the Hereditary King of Bohemia has contacted your husband. Highly doubtful that you know anything of your husband's business, **_Mrs._** Holmes." She got this smug look on her face I just wanted to shred off with a grater.

"My husband and I are partners in business as well, Ms. Adler. However it would be a breech of client privilege if I were to reveal to you any who bring us cases. Sherlock would explain the same to you were he here right now, rather than working a case."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "New York. I figured a Brit wouldn't marry an Yankee."

"Birthplace means nothing, it is respect and devotion. Two words I doubt you will ever know the full meaning of." By now I didn't care about propriety, I wanted this woman to leave.

She smirked. "Nice coloring around your lower eyes. Obviously pregnant. Why would an irresistible man such as your husband want with a fat breeding snippy housewife, when he could have me?"

"First, my husband respects and adores me. Sherlock wouldn't risk hurting me for a one-time fling. Second, when my husband makes a vow he does all he can to fulfill it. That includes his vows to me. And lastly, why would he want a woman who has probably been with more men than he has captured in his entire career?" I was not ready to stop there. "Sherlock is my husband and, though I know of your nuptials, unlike you I was able to look him in the eyes and proudly tell him that I had saved myself for him."

That silenced her for a moment. "We will just have to see if your husband is so pious. I have enjoyed many a Saintly man in my life Mrs. Holmes."

I knew then that my Sherlock would not touch a tramp like her; at least I so hoped and prayed that I was right. "If you have enjoyed them then they couldn't have been **_that_** saintly. I have a few things that need to be done before a couple of clients come by later this afternoon, and you are keeping me from those duties. Good day Ms. Adler, or should I really be saying Mrs. Norton?"

That silenced her and widened her eyes with such a look of panic, as she fled to her landau and left in a hurry. I felt great for a moment. But then I thought back on her comments about my being fat … breeding … snippy? No, I would break down after the case. Not until then.

Three on the dot, Watson was walking in the sitting room. "Nona! How are you feeling?"

"Well, I have had very little trouble with morning sickness today. In fact I haven't lost any food to it all day." I smiled and brushed off the previous interview. "And I found the swelling where my womb is starting to show this morning."

"I'm happy for you. Does Holmes know yet?"

I nodded with a sweeter smile. "He was there when I found it. But he only knows about breakfast. He actually ate so he would be sure that I would at the least attempt to eat." Watson and I both chuckled at that. "Have you rested any?"

I rolled my eyes and explained the agreement I made with Grace. It made him laugh, so I guess that it was a good deal. And then we began chatting about what he read in the books my mom had left for him (which by then he had finished!).

Almost four and in came Sherlock, giving me a smirk and a wink. Watson looked hard at him before knowing it was my dear husband. With a chuckle in his throat, Sherlock went into our room and reappeared as his everyday sweet self. Setting a loving kiss on my lips, he sat down, stretched his legs out in front of the fire, and laughed.

"Well, really!" Watson cried out, and that calmed my husband down for a second before he burst into so much laughter that he laid back in his chair limp. I hated it, but I could laugh at the sight he made. Watson shook his head. "What is it?"

"It's quite too funny. I am sure either of you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing." Sherlock wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

Watson sat back and looked at Sherlock. "I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler."

"Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsy men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know." Sherlock put the stem of his pipe in his teeth, but didn't fill or light it as he explained about his morning. I stood up and went to watch the hustle and bustle in the street below our home/office.

Watson urged him on. "And what of Irene Adler?"

"Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews, to a man." Sherlock saw how heartbroken his words made me. He stood up and rubbed my arms. "I am glad that they do not wander to this part of the city. For they would steal away my angel instead of pinning for the merest of women."

I looked in his eyes and saw his was still deeply in love with me, but I had to know if he meant it. "Even if I am fat, and breeding, and snippy?" I regretted saying it as the last word came out of my mouth. I turned away from my husband's shattered eyes and fought to keep from breaking down.

Sherlock turned me around to look him in the eyes. "Where did you get that idea at?"

"The bitch came by to visit. She wanted to know if we were working for the King she has under her thumb. She called me all of that and said she had been with many pious men in her life, hinting that she'd take you from me. I told her that at least my husband knew full well that I saved myself for him, and then called her by her married name." I looked at the floor and felt as if I was the ugliest woman in the world.

Watson looked at us with worry in his eyes. "What did she say to that, Nona?"

I smirked, bringing a smile to the faces of both men. "She ran off in real fear."

Sherlock and Watson both burst into laughter. My husband kissed me deeply, before pulling me into his warm embrace. Suddenly, I knew that he would never choose another woman over me. But his words meant even more to me. "As she should very well be afraid. After all, my wife is my only equal – that is one of the reasons I asked you to marry me. But why do you let her worry you so much?"

"When Trish and I read this story, and yes you will write this one up Watson, we made up scenarios and …" I didn't have to say anything more. Sherlock had a spark of understanding in his eyes. "And you feared I would have feelings for Irene Adler? Nona, she is nothing but the epitome of everything I have held against women my entire life. If I were asked what the characters that made a woman untrustworthy, I would should them that biography and tell them that she is 'The woman'. I married you because you are everything this female is not."

I jumped into his arms, throwing him off balance and sending us both to the floor. Watson and Sherlock were both worried for the babies and me, but my smile told them I was back to being my old self. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes. How about the rest of your findings?"

He smiled on me and settled me on his lap in his chair as he continued with his report. His one hand keeping me tight to him and the other rested on the lump in my belly that housed our twins, and it calmed us both down. I no longer held any doubts that this man was my husband and wanted no one but me.

After a few minutes, Sherlock set me in his chair as he got up and began to pace back and forth during his account. "This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point. And it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you both with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties. If you are to understand the situation."

"I am following you closely," Watson answered. I smiled at my dear husband. "You know that I am following – given I loved to read this one."

While he explained the scene where in the end he helped Irene Adler become Irene Norton, I felt a thrill as he retold the story I had read so many times. Sherlock did put the coin on his watch chain. To remind him to tell me how he feels everyday. For that reason, I didn't argue. When Watson asked Sherlock what his plans were, I saw the sympathetic pregnancy symptoms come out in my husband.

"Some cold beef and a glass of beer … water or tea for you Nona," he answered, ringing the bell. "I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your cooperation."

"I shall be delighted." Watson too saw and smirked at that facet of my pregnancy's affects on my husband's behaviors. 

"You don't mind breaking the law?" Sherlock looked serious and excited all at the same time. Watson looked at me, and I nodded. "Not in the least."

"Nor running a chance of arrest?" Sherlock pressed on. Watson was ever the stout friend. "Not in a good cause."

Sherlock beamed at me with a wink. "Oh, the cause is excellent!"

"Then I am your man." Watson nodded.

"I was sure that I might rely on you." Sherlock yelped in happiness. And then he looked over at me worriedly. "That is unless that would be a bad influence on the twins."

I busted out in laughter. "Another shared symptom Watson! Anxiety!"

Sherlock winked as he joined our laughter. That had been his plan, to make me laugh. Watson sobered a moment before going on. "But what is it you wish?"

"When Grace has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you both." Watson later explained that had written in the mistake of naming Grace (Mrs. Turner that is) as our landlady so the story would grab my attentions stronger. Sherlock ate as if he were the one carrying the twins, in between making me eat the plate he made for the children and me. "Now, I must discuss it while we eat, for we have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her."

"Will I be helping tonight, Sherlock?" I smirked. It would be nice to show her my Bernie impression. But the look in my husband's eyes told me that would not happen. "No, and I will not back down from that Nona. I will put you and our children in no danger."

"But …" Sherlock silenced me with the look in his eyes. "Nona, this time please understand. There is a sizeable danger tonight. I asked Watson to accompany me not only as a part of my plan, but to ease the fears I knew you would have. If it weren't for the pregnancy, then I would have welcomed your presence to teach Mrs. Norton that my wife is better than her in **_all_** ways."

I sat there and pouted a moment, not noticing Sherlock' hand resting on my knee as he'd do when trying to show me how much he still wanted me as his lover. "Only if I get to go with you guys at the end."

With a smile on his face and relief in his eyes, Sherlock nodded and quickly pointed to my plate. He never kid when it came to my eating for our children, so as silently ordered I ate a bit more while he explained to Watson what was to happen that night. And then he went into the bedroom and came back in full costume. I couldn't help but chuckle. "In that getup you could have performed our wedding, Sherlock."

That sent laughter into Watson and Sherlock both. After a moment the voice of my beloved husband came from the lips of the Nonconformist clergyman before us. "But, then it wouldn't have been legal, my Nona." And then the voice changed into that of a simply minded old man. "And now, Dr. Watson. If you would be so kind as to accompany me as I try to save some lost souls? I believe it is time for us both to be leaving." But Sherlock did not leave without leaving a light peck on my lips.

By the time the pair came home I was sitting by the fire dozing off in Sherlock's chair. With a chuckle he pulled me into his arms and the two of them helped me settle into bed. Thankfully I had changed into my gown and robe. I barely registered some minutes later when Sherlock climbed into our bed and pulled me into his arms. "Goodnight my goddess and only love." He whispered into my ear.

"Forgive me?" I fought to stay awake. I had to know that I hadn't destroyed what I was blessed to ever have in the first place.

He kissed my lips so gently, a kiss that reminded me of our first kiss long before. "There is nothing to forgive. I should have deduced when you said that you had read the tale and then started acting strangely that the two were connected. Please tell me that now you believe me when I say that you are the only one I want as my wife and my lover."

"I believe you." I kissed him back with all of the pint up hunger I had. Sherlock had to break our kiss so I would breath for our kids (or so he later said). "Nona, remember that Watson is next door in his old bedroom. Do you want him to listen to our antics?"

That calmed me down enough to settle in my husband's arms again. In no time I was asleep, though I don't know when Sherlock got to sleep finally (I had been too through in my rousing him for nightly fun).

The next morning told me that he hadn't slept that well (so it had to have been a rough night – excitement of two kinds), but he was on the chase and ready as we finished our breakfast. It was nice to have Watson back at our table, so much like old times. That is until the King of Rudeville (population _him_ of course) burst into the sitting room. "You have really got it!"

Really this guy was going to have a reality check and I was going to be all too happy to watch him squirm for it. I just hate that in a way my husband was going to pay for it by the world knowing her was defeated by a woman. Sherlock looked bored by the game. "Not yet."

"You have hopes?" He gasped in anticipation. Sherlock nodded and answered, "I have hopes." The King was still oblivious to the Lady in the room or the meal he interrupted (okay the end of the meal, but still). "Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone."

"We must have a cab." Sherlock pointed out. But the King was forceful. He wanted out of there like five minutes earlier. "No, my brougham is waiting."

"Then that will simplify matters. Nona, it is a bit chilly this morning. Don't forget your light coat." Sherlock said pointedly as he helped me stand. The King sputtered for a few moments. "Why would your **_wife_** come with us? This is no place for a woman! Her place is in the home breeding like all decent women her age."

Before I could say a word, Sherlock jumped in. "My wife is a full partner in this firm that you contacted, your _Majesty_. When the danger is not too great and her advice can be critical, Nona is right at my side – just as Dr. Watson is. You have been very careless in your remarks and actions from the start of this case and should reconsider such before going into any other English home and expect to give the owners such treatment. You will find yourself on the street."

"Mr. Holmes!" The King sputtered again. Now it was my turn. "You may think all women cower and bow before men such as yourself, but that is a concept you will find does not fit me. Now, as my husband explained to you the night you first contacted us, it is all or none – that includes your precious photograph."

In a few minutes we were in his brougham and off for Briony Lodge with me at Sherlock's side. The King glared at me and obviously disliked my accompanying the men but kept silent. Sherlock decided to add a little salt to the wound the King was nursing in his pride from my verbal assault earlier. "Irene Adler is married."

That left the King pale and speechless, but only for a couple of seconds. "Married! When?"

I settled back in the hopes my back pain would go away. "Yesterday."

The King gave me a dirty look, before addressing my husband once again. "But to whom, **_Mr_**. Holmes?"

"To an English lawyer named Norton."

"But she could not love him." His royal pain in my backside shook his head in disbelief with a self-righteous smirk on his face, as if we were lying to him. I growled at that. "Why, because she supposed to waiting for your beck and call – completely and utter devoted to you? No wonder she was out to send that photograph to your fiancée. Trying to save the poor girl from your ego."

"Mr. Holmes, kindly please control your woman!" Ooh, the King had pushed a button he should have left alone! "Your Majesty, Nona speaks what is on her mind. And she is my wife, not my woman as you so gruffly pointed. I am in hopes that the former Miss. Adler does love her new husband."

"And why in hopes?" The King asked dangerously low. Sherlock to lowered his voice to show how dangerous he could act. "Because it would spare your Majesty (and in turn us – Sherlock explained later) all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan."

"It is true. And . Well! I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!" The King sighed. I had to growl. "I think she has done much better with the path she is now on." Before the King could react, Sherlock added his two cents. "Quite so, Nona. And she is obviously someone's Queen, given that all husbands should see their wives as just that – Queens who should be treasured, not owned." The King sat there in a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue.

The rest I believe is well known. We got there and met the maid at the front door, only to find that the bride was long gone – leaving behind only a cabinet photo of herself and a letter to Holmes. But there was also a letter for me. The envelope read "Nona Holmes – the Better Woman. To be read in private" Well I waited until we three were in our sitting room in Baker Street to open it. I didn't care that my husband and dearest friend were there – I could tell them anything. The note itself read like this.

**_My Dear Mrs. Nona Holmes,_**

****

**_    You are quite an amazing woman. How you knew of my marriage or my new surname is still beyond me. Now I think you understand what I have dealt with and what my real motives were. I showed the picture and letters to the bride-to-be, but she is to far gone to see this King for what he truly is._**

****

**_    I did try to seduce your husband at one moment before I let him see where the photo was. Tell your husband that next time stage blood would be more convincing than red paint. As for my seduction, as you have already guessed, he didn't fall for it. You have a good man, Mrs. Holmes. But, I doubt you needed me to tell you that._**

****

**_    I wish you and you family the best Mrs. Holmes. For you are not the only one with a family on the way. I am not quite as far along as you are, but I hope I shine as beautifully as you did when you and I traded words._**

****

**_                                                                  All of my respect and good will,_**

**_                                                                     Irene Norton (nee Adler)_**

'**_I love and am loved by a better man than he._**' I saw that for myself. But I couldn't help but wonder what poor Mrs. Norton meant when she wrote, '**_The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged._**'

Holmes did take the photograph. I have it tucked away in a trunk with different mementos of my life here in Baker Street. He told me it was to show me who I defeated for his heart long before he ever laid an eye on her. Holmes couldn't believe that his red paint was so easily spotted. I think that was why he never trusted his make up to fool myself or Watson ever again after that – though he still like to try.

The King of Bohemia on the other hand was excited. Of course he had no idea what had really happened. "What a woman -- oh, what a woman! Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?"

Holmes fought of the urge to put this thing in his place, and just let his words chill the air. "From what I have seen of the lady she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your Majesty. I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion." And the rest all of you know if you read the story Watson penned.

***

I woke up to a strange butterfly feeling, just after I started my second trimester. I didn't need to go to the bathroom (a first in a while), and I wasn't sick. Could it be? A smile warmed my face as I deduced what was happening in me. I gently shook Sherlock, "Love wake up."

He snapped awake worried. "What is it, Nona?" I couldn't help but curl closer to him as he pulled us in his arms and rubbed my belly. "Sherlock, I think I feel one of our kids moving in me." That one comment made his eyes smile in awe. It was too early for him to feel it too, but Sherlock was happy that I could describe it for him. To tell the truth, I think he was happy for that high point in my pregnancy to remind us that yes there was something alive that was growing in my belly. 

I went to visit our family and Trish at Oakstaff during the case Watson would later title the 'Yellow Face'. But, I assured Sherlock that I loved him still – even if there really were times I would someday have to whisper the dreaded 'N' word in his ear. He playfully glared, but I knew he was just waiting to get me in the position where I could get in this state once again. And that was fine by me.

I ended up returning to Oakstaff a week later because of a death threat towards me and the babies that had been delivered anonymously to our home in the middle of the night. Sherlock felt better knowing that the babies and I were safe at Oakstaff. I didn't argue after he promised to visit often and come to me the moment it seemed the babies were arriving. After all my children's lives were at risk along with my own. But I was forbidden from riding Onyx Queen until after the twins were born for their sakes, and because to leave the manor set me at more risk. So my Onyx was the one to pull the carriage from the station to the house and out anytime I was in the carriage. Plus, I watched her give Virgil rides when he came back now and again from school. And I visited her whenever I missed Sherlock. She helped me remember my honeymoon and the wonderful man who I had no doubt had at least pulled a couple of favors to get her for me – if not in truth pay a princely sum to secure her for me.

* * *

Well, did the King not deserve it? I always saw Irene as a victim of a stuck up brute.  


	6. In which Trish and Mycroft Face Reality,...

Okay this is one of my longest chapters!!! 51 pgs!! Major changes so it would be worth a re-read … at least I hope so.

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING:** The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **EXTREMELY HIGH** levels of **BST** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

**DISCLAIMER:** Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the **US** they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All **BST** characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^

~~

BST Chapter 18

**In which Trish and Mycroft Face Reality, Holmes Remembers, and I Have Double Trouble**

By Bonnie S.

~~

**_Trish_** –

When Nona moved in at Oakstaff, I found myself with a new job – keeping an eye on her. About time too. I hate mooching off of people who seemed to care about me. I felt better about things when I confessed to Mycroft that night, but it didn't make what I did right. Despite what he said about my past not having happened yet, I remembered it all clearly and I felt so filthy for it. He was my dear friend, but I doubted that he would ever consider me much more than that. 

Siger (he refused to let me use his title and I refused to call him dad – so we called my using his given name a compromise) introduced me to a few young men of the area, but I felt nothing for them. All of them were rich, stuck up, in love with themselves, and were only looking for a breeding mare to give them an heir. It wasn't until they tried to control me that Siger saw how awful these guys were – in front of him they were perfect gentlemen. I came out and the moment I gave my opinion on a discussion rather than quietly waited to be spoken to the men I was introduced to tried to put me in my place – that I was an embarrassment to the Holmeses and acted like a common street wench. Siger would have nothing to do with that, and swiftly showed them the door. Looked like I would have to learn how to behave if I would ever find a place for myself in this time. Or at least to get myself to the end of my yearlong agreement with Mycroft. A little over eight months left and I would be back where I belonged.

Tentatively I asked Holly to teach me to be a true lady of this time, and wasn't at all surprised when she looked taken aback by my request. Thankfully she agreed fully. And in two weeks I was acting like a proper young woman of the age. It felt weird. Like I was in a full body mask. Siger hated it, as did everyone else. I couldn't understand why though. I just didn't want to embarrass my friend's family anymore than I had already.

Nona refused to speak or look at me until I 'came to my senses'. Holly apologized and said she had no idea I would take things to this level. But what hurt the worse was Mycroft stopped visiting every weekend. When he did come, it was when Sherlock asked him to check on Nona, and then he did everything he could to politely avoid me. That tore me apart. I was just trying to act like a proper young woman of the age. I thought he would be happy. What did I do wrong? I just wanted to fit in. Being the me that was didn't cut it. So, obviously I had to change. Why didn't everyone understand that? How could I make things right again? Maybe he just realized that I didn't belong here and regretted asking me to stay. That was it, so I knew the second there was another way home I should take it without thinking twice or even saying goodbye.

Besides, who could accept me? Not with what I was. No, this new me had to prove herself as any lady of this age would.

***

**_Mycroft_** –

How could I make things right again?

This was not the Trish that I knew. I had no idea who this false woman was, but it was not the same young woman who bared her heart and soul to me nearly a year before. What happened to that lively and vivacious woman who gave up everything for another chance at life? There had to be something that I could do to bring that Trish back. This woman who was pretending to be Trish had to go. I however was at a loss to banish her for the safe return of the true Trish. It hurt to see her in pain because of my averting her company, and it hurt to see her like this. I finally had to stop returning to visit unless absolutely needed because the pain was that bad. But that also added onto me the pain of seemingly losing a part of my life.

I had no idea why, but for some reason I couldn't accept a life without knowing that she was safe and well and happy. Trish had been through enough in her short life. I wanted her to have one where she could at last hold herself high. After all that she did for Sherlock and Nona … for Father … for me … it was the least that she deserved. But I would not accept that she had to turn into an average Victorian woman to do that. Trish deserved to be herself.

Halloween was nearing, but Trish seemed to take on her disguise too soon and too completely. She didn't even answer to Trish … only to Patricia. Why was she doing this? Couldn't she be herself for me? And why did this pain me so deeply? Why was how she acted all that important to me? We were only friends … nothing more than that.

It didn't matter how I felt for her, because she would only ever see me as a friend that she can talk to. At least that was how she used to see me. Now I wasn't all that certain anymore. Was I still a friend at all?

***

**_Nona_** –

Trish was really pushing my buttons not long after I moved into Oakstaff. I remembered how she had done this through jr. high and during our freshman year of high school. She was so ashamed of herself that she wanted to be anyone but herself. I had twin babies growing in me, I just didn't have the time or energy or patience to deal with her pity party this time around.

I never realized how deep her pain was, but all of that hadn't happened yet. Now she had a chance for a brand new life, and she was screwing around and ruining it. Everyone pretty much stopped talking to her at meals. Her farce was sickening the first day she chose to turn into this fake.

I couldn't remember at first what it was that made her turn around the last time. That is until I remembered what tore us apart our junior year and put her into her shell again – Rob's death.

Rob had moved in not far from Trish and was the only one ever allowed to call her by her given name other than me. They fell for one another fast, and burn so bright that no one was unhappy when they were nearby. Problem was that they burned out fast. Rob died from cancer just after Easter, with Trish at his side. He swore that they would be together again, when they got to where they really first met. And, as crazy as that sounded, I knew he was right.

I remember that he used to talk about how he felt that they had been in love in a past life (he loved talking about stuff like that). Now that I take a good look at him, Mycroft really did remind me of Rob. Could he have been right? No, that's crazy! Mycroft could not be Rob. Then again look at my current state of affairs. Pregnant with twins by a man who was supposed to be only a story character, living in the 19th century, and a Lady. Okay, so maybe it wasn't all that crazy, but it had to be impossible – right? But with Mycroft's real first name being Robert like Rob's had been. There was only one way to know for sure.

I asked dad to see a picture of Mycroft as a teen, and felt my heart stop. Before me was a large version of Rob! This was getting beyond weird. Trish had to see this! "Trish! Get in here now!"

She stormed in glaring daggers at me. "How many times do I have to … tell … you …"

That was all she was able to get out. Trish hit the floor in shock, and my big belly made it impossible for me to check her. Luckily dad was there, he told me she was fine. I didn't blame her for fainting. Mycroft and Rob? Could they really be the same man of two separate ages?

What I didn't know was that Sherlock, Watson, Mary, and Mycroft were all in for a visit, and the latter man didn't like that Trish was out on the floor. He knelt down and settled her head in his lap before looking up at me expectantly and full of fury. "What happened?"

"She saw this old portrait and fainted." I explained calmly as Sherrinford, Holly, and Virgil came into the room. Then I pointed to the painting. Mycroft didn't understand me. "Why would she faint at my old portrait?" So, I explained parts Trish's past. I didn't know that Trish was reliving it all in her mind at that moment.

***

**_1997 …_**

Trish sighed as she struggled through another first day of her junior year at Colton High. Snobs as always were snickering as she past and that made her feel lower for it. She was being forced to move in with her uncle and aunt that coming weekend, and knew that she wouldn't make it much further than one month before killing herself or running away. No one believed her, and none were willing to help her. Well … there was Nona, but her family wouldn't agree to that – would they?

She slowly made her way into the busy corridor without looking where she was going. And then she slammed into someone, which made the snobby cheerleaders cackle louder as Trish hit the ground and some of her books and the other person's books fell to the ground around her. Trish, who was blushing red in shame and embarrassment, wanted to run and hide. That is until a deep sweet voice silenced the cheerleaders. "I have never heard a louder pack of hyenas in my life – not even in Africa."

Trish had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, never knowing that was this young man's plan. April Jamison sniffed hurtfully. "Well I've never!"

"With a laugh like that, I doubt that she ever will."

That did it for Trish. She rested her forehead on the guy's shoulder and chuckled hard. April and her little posse stormed off as he joined Trish in laughing. As he returned one of the books that had fell from Trish's grasp when they collided, she blushed and looked up into the deepest and most dazzling gray eyes she had ever seen in her life! Within her something clicked, and Trish simply knew that her troubles were going to work out now. "Thank you."

"It was truly my fault. Are you alright?" He helped her gather the last of the lost books, and then to her feet. This guy **_had_** to be new – he wasn't mocking her, he had a different accent, and Trish had never seen him in her life. "I'm fine. Besides I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. My name's Patricia, but everyone calls me Trish."

He took her hand and brushed his lips across the knuckles, halting her breath in the process. "An interesting nickname. My name is Robert, but I am usually called Rob."

After a heartbeat, Trish came back to the real world. "Nice to meet you Robert."

"Please, call me Rob. I hate to bother you, but I can't seem to find the student office." He averted his eyes in his frustration. Trish smiled; she couldn't believe she had been given the permission to call him by his nickname. "I walk you there. And please call me Trish."

So began the best week in her life. Trish was glad to have four classes with Rob. Once he was set, they went off for first period and ran into Nona (Trish's best friend). Rob spotted the Sherlock Holmes book under her arm. "A fan of Mr. Holmes I see."

Nona chuckled. "An observant man – never met one in this town. And with that accent, you'd have to be from the United Kingdom – I'd say England for a certainty. How about you tell me some more about little me?"

Rob smirked and looked at her for a few minutes. "You are quite correct in your observation of me. I recently moved here from London to be precise. While you yourself have just recently turned sixteen, and despite have definite tastes you have kept your grades up to remain in high esteem with the faculty. Yet, you dislike being awarded for your merits, very much like Mr. Holmes. You are right handed, love to write nearly as much as you do to read, and play at least one stringed instrument – one certainly being the violin. I also note that you have been to Florida this past summer, yet you did not spend much time at the beach. You have your learner's permit, are a dear friend to Trish, as I mentioned earlier are a fan of Dr. Watson's writings, and recently had a bad spill from your bicycle. Or, am I much mistaken?"

Nona was staring in shock, so too was Trish. "How did you?"

"Trish, must I play the role of Sherlock some more? Very well. Your friend's age is obvious as most students in this grade are fifteen or sixteen, however you have your learner's permit to drive. That means you have been held back at least once. Meaning that you are sixteen going on seventeen. You prefer Sherlock Holmes to the assigned reading materials because you are reading a copy of 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' on the first day of classes. Your detesting awards for merit is shown by the unusual book mark of light blue thick paper that has a ribbon and a metallic sticker that is a seal of some sort and an obvious official signature. Your writing hand and love of writing are shown by the evident callous on your right middle finger. However you have several books in your bags along with the one you are reading in your hands, yet we have yet to go to our first class. A lover of reading as well as writing is the only way to explain that observation. 

"The calluses on your left fingertips tell me of the stringed instrument, how you are holding you same shoulder hints at the violin and practice that was performed before school this morning. However your right fingers tell me that they strum strings as well – possible second instrument that has not been played in a time. Why not? Obviously because you had left it at home, possibly by mistake. Your slightly uneven tan tells me that you were in a sunny place this past summer because it is still very pronounced – I indicated Florida because I have been told that it is the sunshine state. It is uneven because you did not go to the beach like most girls. You did some driving, but you were in the passenger's seat a large part of the time. That is why your tan is so uneven. The bicycle accident is evident from the scrape barely hidden by your bangs, which are used to being over on left side of your face rather than over the right side as they are now. The darkness of your hair also tells me that you did not spend a large amount of time in the sun. Fair enough?"

Nona grinned. "I expect so, Sherlock. Nah, with the slight gut you've been sucking in, it would better to call you Mycroft."

Rob chuckled and let his waist go back to its normal width. Trish glared daggers at her friend. "Nona!"

"He asked for it. Pulling off a distinguished Mycroft when there is no Sherlock in sight for me. Got a baby brother?" Nona smarted off.

Rob smirked with a superior twinkle in his eyes, but did not answer her question. He was given a break when the bell rang for first period. Neither girl had been part of the popular crowd, but they found that they didn't need it. Rob fitted into their nook in high school life, so they welcomed him in as a constant. Trish more so than Nona.

***

Those first few days flew by so joyfully that Trish completely forgot what was awaiting her on Saturday. She ran into the house the Friday to be stopped by her drunken grandmother. "You packed yet?"

"It's just an overnight with Nona and Rob, grandmom. I can pack before I go." Trish sighed.

Her grandmother cackled in the way Trish hated. "You had so much fun that you forgot. I mean your move to Dan's place tomorrow. Looks like your plans are shot."

That made Trish's blood go cold. Not Dan! Please! "Why Dan?"

"Why not? About time you started doing what you were bred for." Cackling, her grandmother went back into the living room, and Trish ran out the door.

For hours she walked. Not feeling the warmth of the sun or the coolness of the coming night. Trish felt completely numb. Eventually she found herself at the cemetery, knelt beside that familiar headstone and cried hard. After a few moments se calmed enough to plead at the cold marble. "Mommy, why did you have to die? Why does all of this have to be happening now? I have Rob now, and everything was so wonderful. Why do I have to go to Dan's now? What happens when … when …" Trish broke down into tears again.

Yet, that cold stone wasn't the only one to hear her pain filled wails. Rob and Nona had deduced that she would come to the cemetery to talk to her mom, who had died from an epileptic seizure when Trish was still a baby. Both were torn from the weeping of their friend. Rob pleaded for the facts from Nona, but she held firm that it was not her place to say anything. If he wanted the truth he would have to get it from Trish herself. "Trish?"

"Rob! How did you find me?"

Taking off his jacket, he knelt beside her and slid it onto her shoulders. Instinctively she nuzzled against his shoulder as she leaned against him. Rob pulled her close and reassured himself that she was all right and in his arms again. That no one had her and she was safe. "What is wrong?"

Trish snuggled tighter into his embrace in her shame, trying to enjoy this last embrace for as long as she could. "I'm being forced into moving in with my uncle Dan tomorrow. I can't … I'll die there!"

That thought twisted Rob's stomach and heart both. "Tell me, Trish."

After a few heartbeats, she gave in and told him everything. How her mother died, her father lost custody of her to her mother's mom. How in front of people her grandmother was a pious and strict grandmother, but in truth she was an abusive drunkard. About when her uncle Dan was caught on top of her when she was seven by Nona. How the town didn't believe either of them – that she was accused of begging for it to happen to her. That it was the reason everyone in town put her down. That Dan planned to breed her because his wife couldn't have kids. That he had tried to do so with her single aunt, but she was barren. The family took her from her father with the agreement that once she was large enough to take him, Dan would be allowed to breed his family from her. Through the entire sickening tale she held him tight and was relieved that he held onto her just as tight. He couldn't believe all that she went through, and she couldn't believe that he didn't throw her away.

"Trish, look at me." When she did with such frightened tears, he kissed her forehead and continued. "I swear on your mother's grave that I will not let you move in that place."

"But how? It's too late for the courts."

"Don't worry, I will find a way. Have a couple extra bags packed for tomorrow's overnight. You won't be going back to that place or this Dan's either."

Nona came up to them with a determined look on her face. "She's only going back tonight to pack her bags. I talked your grandmother into letting you spend the night tonight too."

They all three packed seven bags of her treasured items and got all but two out in the car when her grandmother came out from the living room. "Don't I get a hug and kiss? You'll be going to Dan's after this."

"**I hate you. You will never see me again!**" Trish spat hatefully.

Her grandmother got a sneaky half smile on her face. "I will. Who else is going to help Danny teach your two's kids to be good little momma's boys and daddy's girls?"

Trish fully collapsed into Rob's arms, but this was what he was hoping for. He moved Trish slightly out of the way, enough to reveal that the Sheriff and three of his men were standing there listening too. The Sheriff looked up at the old woman with a hard stare. "Mrs. Gantries, just **_what_** did you mean by that?"

The old woman sputtered, but couldn't excuse herself. It was all over the papers and TV that the family was arrested for multiple counts of child abuse. Trish was finally free, but it had the backwash that Trish's private life was all over town as well – more so than it was before. Luckily, it wasn't a national story. Trish was placed in her father's custody, and he was making arrangements to have her move in with him in Upper New York State. Another backwash, Trish was leaving town and her dearest friends.

Rob explained that since his family disappeared years before (a fact about him that he hadn't told them until their overnight), he could go wherever he wished. And Nona's family had inherited a big house not far from Trish's father years before – it was the house her father grew up in. They were not going to lose one another at all! In fact, Trish and Rob moved with Nona and her family.

***

Junior year came and brought tragedy with it. Rob was diagnosed with cancer, and it was too far spread to do anything about it. Nona and Trish were pulled out of school to be home schooled so they could be there for Rob as things went down hill. Most of the time, Trish was cuddled up against Rob in his room. They had been together so short a time, but she knew that he was the only one who could make feel whole. He had saved her from worse than death, and now she couldn't return the favor. He was going to die and she had nothing that could save him.

Late one night, he was gasping and groaning as the pain tore through his body. She woke and went for the pain medicine, which he seemed to need more of each day. But, Rob grabbed her hand. His grip was still surprisingly strong for so weak a man. "Trish, don't. It won't be long now. I want to have my last bits of time with you clear headed, so you know that I am of my right mind."

"What do you mean, Rob?" Trish hated this. He was too good a man for this to happen … to cut his life so short.

His eyes were glazed over, but still had such a fiery passion in their depths. "I am not of this time." She looked at him skeptically of course. "Listen. That is why my family vanished without a trace from my life. They were never here. I would have died from this cancer if I had remained with them, and you would have gone through that horrible fate. My mother died when I was away at school. I was fourteen. She was murdered. But, she has been able to intercede for us both because she knows we are meant to be together."

"I feel that way too. But now …" Trish couldn't finish it. She felt her heart ache as she watched him die. Rob too was hurting. "I was transferred to the consciousness of this body who committed suicide by overdosing on medication when he found out he had cancer and it was too late to save him. He looked identical to me, so my mother transferred me to him so I could properly die as fate decided, and the cancer in my true body will be eliminated. And so I could save you, my love. Please just know that we are going to be reunited in a time you have never known. Take care of others, and don't close up your wonderful heart. We won't know one another until the time comes when you recognize me for who I am … then I'll remember. Don't ask questions … just know and believe in your heart we will only be apart for a little time. Please …"

She didn't know what to say. It wasn't the drugs. Could it be he was delusional? That had to be it … but his eyes were clear, firm, and held such a force. He was telling the truth, and somehow Trish knew it. She nodded. "I hope it won't take a long time for reincarnation to get us back together. I am going to miss you so very much."

He smiled in peace. Again she lay beside him and was happy when he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "It is not reincarnation in the way you know it, love. Think of it as destined moving of souls and sometimes bodies. I may not remember it all when we find one another again, but my heart will miss you as well, my angel. I will feel this aching hole in my soul that only you will fill. Until we are together again and afterward through the rest of time, my heart is yours."

"And mine is yours. I love you Robert." A final kiss on his lips, and he was gone.

***

**_Back in the 19th Century …_**

Trish's head was still in Mycroft's lap, as he remembered all of the elements that Nona thankfully left out. It had all come full circle, and they were together once again. He looked down on his love and rubbed her cheek with his thumb as she came around at last.  So softly that none but Mycroft could hear her Trish sighed out, "Robert?"

Mycroft's eyes regained that twinkle he always had for her before as he nodded and whispered back. "Still as beautiful as ever, my angel."

Trish understood that this meant he remembered the past that they would have in the future. With tears of joy in her eyes she mouthed out the words she had wanted to say for a long time, 'I love you, Robert'. When he mouthed his love in return, the tears poured down her face – cleaning her heart and soul better than anything could. Then he asked **_the_** question, which made her whole as she nodded and mouthed out 'yes'. But then came a surprise none of would have dared to dream up!

They heard the clicking of footsteps coming towards them from nowhere. When they all looked towards the far wall, a thick roll of fog that had a bright light filtering through it from within hid the wall. As the sound became louder they all were stunned to see … the boys' mom! It couldn't be! Lady Violet Holmes! Sherlock took his wife's hand and softly panted with tears in his eyes. It had been so long since he last saw her beautiful face. So too with his family. Sherrinford swallowed and prayed that he was not asleep, while Holly was nervous and Virgil was confused. Mycroft was thankful to be able to thank her for the gift of his life and his love. Sir Siger leaned against the wall behind him; certain that his wife no longer loved him as he still desperately loved her.

Violet knelt down beside Trish and Mycroft and smiled. "Yes it is me, Robert. I am really here and this is no dream. I am proud of all you have and will do. Take good care of this young woman. She deserves to know what it is like to have a real family." With such brilliance in her gray eyes, she hugged her second son tight and kissed his cheek. The others were stunned. Lady Violet was there in the flesh? But, that just couldn't be possible!

Then she smiled so sweetly on Trish as she brushed her fingers down the young woman's face. She whispered into her ear, "welcome to our family, my daughter." Trish chuckled as she cried more and embraced the fallen Lady. Violet smiled and hugged her future daughter close. "Now, you have someone you have wanted time with for most of your life, Patricia. And she too wants some time with you and my Robert."

Looking up Trish saw a woman who was herself – only older. "Mommy!"

Violet released the young woman as Trish and Mycroft went over to her mother. Trish was instantly in her mother's arms and sobbed out in joy. Mycroft rubbed his love's back as he stood there watching over them. Melinda smiled softly. "Thank you for taking such good care of my little girl, Robert. You will never know just how at peace your actions have made me."

"I would do any and all to ensure her health and happiness, Mrs. Young." Mycroft vowed.

Melinda smiled softly. "You don't have to address me like that, son. Mom is just fine with me. I have known for a long time where the two of you were going. Your mother wasn't the only one pulling for this family with the powers that be."

"Alright, mom." Mycroft smiled and accepted a hug from his future mother-in-law.

During this, Violet had gone to her first-born son and his family. Sherrinford smiled with tears in his eyes as she embraced him close. "You have become more than I ever dreamed of as I watched you growing up, Peter. I am so proud of you, my son. You keep on being the man I have watched you become."

"I love you mother." He sobbed into her neck as he relished the feel of her embrace for the first time in so very long. She hugged him tighter and kissed his cheek. "I know, I have always known. I love you just as much, if not more."

After a few moments she turned to her lawful daughter. "Oh Holly, you are not a disappointment. Far from that. I am proud to call you my daughter." Laying a hand on the young woman's belly, Violet smiled. "She is proud of her mother as well."

Sherrinford and Holly were having a daughter! Virgil grinned madly. "I'm going to be a big brother!" Violet smiled on her first grandchild. "And where is my hug, young man?"

Without a pause, Virgil wrapped himself tight around the woman's waist. Violet chuckled and rubbed his back. "Do you know that you act just like your Uncle William did at your age?"

"Really grandma?"

"Yes, in fact I knew then he would become a detective, just as I see you becoming. After all the Baker Street Agency of Deduction will need a new generation to take over eventually, despite what my baby son thinks – he is not a brain with an appendix for a body." This made everyone chuckle and Sherlock blush. "See, the reason we came home when we did, was that William deduced that one of the high-ranking diplomats was stealing from poor widows. When your father called the man a dirty thief, your Uncle took it upon himself to clean the man. He took two buckets to a balcony in our home above a street he knew the official would walk by. He dumped the first that had soapy water and then the rinse water. We had to leave France to keep William from being thrown in prison."

Everyone was chuckling even more at that, but Sherlock. He was blushing even hotter than he ever had in his life. Taking sympathy for her baby, Violet calmed everyone. "Though that washing did make him less slimy. So, the authorities did arrest him a year later. So, you be a good boy. And before long you will be as good a detective as your Uncle William."

A beat later she came to her favorite child. She looked up into the face that mirrored her own, and then brushed his tears away with her thumbs. "I never once doubted you, my baby boy. I love you **_so_** very much. My baby has grown up on me, and I see in him a man I am and will always be very proud of."

An instant later they were in one another's embrace. Sherlock had missed this about her the most – how freely she gave him her love. That was one of the things that drew him to Nona – she too gave out her heart and love so freely. He still felt so responsible. "Forgive me, mother."

"There is nothing to forgive. It was not your fault that I died. I had to in order to make all of this and what is to come happen. You are a wonderful man, detective, husband, and very soon will be an equally wonderful father." Her sweet words and embrace slowly rebuilt Sherlock in ways only his mother could. It took some time, but he eventually let her go. Violet then smiled and embraced her daughter, Nona. "Thank you for making him whole, my daughter."

"Thank you for giving me my life, a man to share it with, and children of our own to watch grow up." Nona sniffled as she tried desperately not to cry.

Violet too had tears in her eyes. She pulled out of Nona's arms and laid her hands on the woman's obviously pregnant belly. "They can hardly wait to be born. They also want to say something to their mummy and daddy. They love you both, and will be here on October twenty-first. Well, William has outdone his last anniversary gift to you I think my daughter."

Nona chuckled at that. "I **_wondered_** how he was going to outdo last year. Please tell me that you have a **different** idea for next year!" Sherlock only smirked with tears in his eyes. That made Nona nervous.

The elder Violet chuckled. "Oh, and this little boy in you is his father made all over. William never liked to take a nap, and neither will your son. It got to where I had to lay down with my little William just to get him to sleep. Have fun kids." 

That made everyone laugh. But that stopped when Violet stopped in front of Watson and Mary. "Thank you both for everything. There were so many times my movements could have been countered by your choices Dr. Watson. But, you followed your instincts and help me in ways even I didn't think of."

Watson blushed slightly. "Thank you for bringing Holmes into my life. Without him I doubt that Mary and I would have ever met."

Violet smiled at Mary, "and a certain baby boy would not be on his way. He has a very special destiny. You'll see."

"A baby? I'm pregnant?" Mary collapsed into her husband's arms, and Violet whispered to him that made Watson clutched his love closer. Slowly Mary opened her eyes. "Was I dreaming? Am I …" Watson smiled with tears in his eyes as he nodded, determined to keep Lady Violet's words to him secret forever.

She turned to her husband, who was still leaning against the wall and looking at the floor. He still hated himself for what could not be undone. "Siger, my love, please look at me."

After a moment he finally did with tears bathing his cheeks. Without a beat missed, Violet wiped away his tears with her thumbs and kissed him deeply. Siger pulled her close and relished holding his beloved again for the first time in far too long. Violet wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened their kiss. All the others smiled at the pair, but said and did nothing. Finally they broke away to catch a breath. Violet smiled secretively at her one and only. "How does your hip feel now?"

"You healed it." The family was startled, while Siger began to make plans in his mind if he were lucky enough to have time alone with his love. She nodded gently. "Yes, because I hate to see you in pain." Then she whispered into his ear, "and also for later, my love." They both grinned at that.

After that each small family went to their own rooms (except for Trish and Mycroft, who stayed up a little longer with Melinda supervising them).

***

**_Siger_** –

My sweet Violet had come back to me without a shade of malice in her heart, even after all the years I hated her unjustly. To hold her in my arms again was more heaven than I felt I deserved. She spoke with our Sherlock and Nona a few moments, and then we were gone to spend time alone together. It felt as if she had returned home from a very long trip without me. Once we were at our room again, I swept her into my arms. Her beautiful laughter was just as I remembered it. The perfume of her skin was still as soft and sweet as our first night together. She was light as a feather and seemed to glow as if she were expecting again. I kicked the door closed and carried her to our bed. "My sweet, sweet Violet."

"I have heard every thought and cry from you mind and heart over the years, my Siger. Your surprise for them will be perfect. You will make their futures brighter." Violet smiled as I laid beside her again. I had longed for a night with her at his side again, and now my sweetest wish had come true. "Then you know how much I have missed you, my shy Violet. Why didn't you come to me sooner? Back when I could have made up for the past with our sons?"

A sad tear came to my one love's eyes. "I could only make a limited amount of changes to the timeline, Siger my love. And each change would alter our family's future. I cannot stop every hurt, every injustice, but I can move when it is best for those I love." It felt so good to hold my beloved Violet again. If only this could be for the rest of my days. Violet seemed to still know my thoughts. "No love. I can only be here for tonight. I couldn't bear the agony in our family any longer. And our newest daughter, along with her unborn children, would have been lost if I had not moved tonight." The reality I would lose my Violet come sunrise made me hold her a little tighter and breath in her scent. "You have not answered my questions completely, love."

The shattering sigh it pulled from her body nearly made me regret the questions, but I had to know. "Siger, if I had moved before now many things would be different. Sherlock would never have become his own detective because you would not have challenged him. Nona would be dead in an alleyway for what little money she had in her pocket and her killer would never be caught. Both of our younger sons would spend their lives alone because Nona would have perished and Trish would never come back to meet our Mycroft. Dr. Watson and his wife would have been murdered long before they were to meet, and our family would be ruined." I couldn't help but shiver at that thought. She meant their eldest son most likely would have been in prison for a crime he did not commit. "But you and Sherlock wouldn't have been against one another. Yes, Sherrinford would have been convicted and would died in prison before Sherlock and Mycroft could come together to free our family name. You would have had a heart attack and perished the day he would have been sentenced. Holly would have died in the attempt to birth the daughter who is in her now. Sherlock would have taken Virgil to America and raise the boy as his own, only to lose our grandson in a terrible fire that is to come. Sherlock would never recover and Mycroft would never forgive our youngest son. Both would be alone on their deathbeds wishing life had come about differently."

Suddenly I remembered just how wise my wife was, and part of why this woman had captured my heart early in our marriage. "You know your all I dream of now." I had been reading too many of those adventures the good doctor has penned. Yes, I read every tale. And yes, despite my anger, I was proud of my son – though I doubted I would ever say that out loud. "My wise and sweet Violet." To see her blush and smile, I was slowly becoming whole again. The rest of the night we spoke and touched and revived my heart and soul.

**_Trish_** –

I sighed as I leaned back into my now fiancée's arms when held in front of me a gorgeous ring I knew too well, his mom's engagement ring. I couldn't help giggling. I had my place in the world and only had to be myself to get it. "I thought Nona still had that on her hand."

"When you and mom came in here I asked Nona for it. It seems that Nona and Sherlock have held a bet on us that we helped Sherlock to win. Nona thought for certain that I wouldn't have asked for the ring until December it seems." Mycroft chuckled.

"A nice Christmas present early. I don't think that we have to continue that agreement about the one year, Rob. I am home in your arms." The smile that brought to his face told me that he had been worried about that old agreement. I smiled as he slid the ring on my left ring finger. Our love had come full circle, just like he promised me. I turned in his arms and kissed him firmly on the lips, a kiss he gave back with an equal intensity. Finally we broke it and I lay in his arms, enjoying the peace we now had.

Mycroft held me tight and rubbed my back, it was so comforting, warm, and safe that I could almost dose off. But there was something on his mind, I knew my Robert too well and he hadn't changed at all in the time that we were apart. "Sweetheart, tell me what's wrong."

"I got a telegram earlier. Sherlock and I are being summoned to London due to a case. But there is nothing for you to worry about, love." He whispered as he kissed the top of my head. There was something about it; it felt familiar. "Tell me about it."

"Love …" He started, but I was certain there was something. "I think I know what it is. Please humor me. Whitechapel, am I right?"

"Yes. There have been four murders in Whitechapel since August. And Sherlock has been receiving death threats against Nona and the babies from the murderer. That was the real reason Sherlock sent Nona here to Oakstaff, for the safety of her and the twins." Mycroft rubbed my back gently but I couldn't hide my shutter. We were living during the time of famous serial killer Jack the Ripper! I had to open my big mouth. "There's going to be one more."

Mycroft shot up and sat me to where he could look into my eyes. "What do you mean, Trish? Does Sherlock solve the case?"

"I don't think so. It's still a mystery in the twenty-first century. They think they have figured out who did it – after he's already dead. I skimmed through a book review about it." I shuttered more. Now I wished that I had read that book, if only to have more information to help.

Mom sighed and looked at the floor. "Sherlock does stop the Ripper, but the cases will remain unsolved – that is all I am allowed to say."

I remembered another fact. "The next murder isn't until near the end of November … I think. I know that there will be none in October."

This was October 1st, not a lot of time to pull anything useful from me.

***

**_Sherlock_** –

For the first time since the awful day I lost her, I was able to hold my mother again. It was impossible, illogical, against all that man believed in along with my reasoning methods, and it was miraculous. Her gentle words and soft kiss erased all of the self-hate and grief that I had carried in my heart since the day she died. Nona had told me of mother's love and pride, but all of her words meant nothing – I thought she was only trying to do what she could to make me happy again. I still hated myself, but then mother said it and I knew my angel hadn't been making it up to please me.

Sitting up in bed I looked down on my wife. She had changed my world and sacrificed so much. Yet there was a soft smile on her lips as she slept. Nona seemed to have gained nearly as much as she lost. I knew too well that I could never repay her for all she did for my family and myself. Her belly was beautiful to me, even if she hated it and called herself fat. In her belly were the two single greatest miracles of all – our children. The fact that dear dependable Watson was too about to become a father was splendid. He really deserved to have a family after all that he done for Nona and myself. And my eldest brother as well, to beat all I was going to be an uncle for a second time. Adding in that my wife and I had that bet going on that I won, life was turning better. To top all of that, we knew our children were healthy, happy, and well … we were at least warned about the little boy just waiting to come our way. I remembered those long ago nap times mother resorted to snuggling with me just to make me sleep. To know that our son was going to be his father made over was a frightening thought – not half as frightening as the thought of how our daughter would act. It took time to get Nona to sleep, but I knew as amazing as my wife is, that she would need her sleep for the birth of our children.

After a time, I got up and stood by the window just to watch her dream. I thought back to how different this wonderful woman had made my life. The honest fact was I didn't want to imagine life without her in it. I knew it would have been too late to save my family name if I had been on my own during my brother's case. That one statement she made at breakfast closed the case for me. And to think that at first I hadn't wanted her to come. I would have been such an incompetent fool! But then again, I had been such before then and since. My mind wondered back over our odd courtship – if one could really call it that, seeing as it did not follow the majority of Victorian rules. Then again, the two of us rarely did follow the current standards. I never honestly imagined that it would take the one case Watson would never publish so Nona would not expect or suspect what fate and my mother had in store for her to bring us together.

Thinking back on the day the case that spiraled us towards this night arrive, if Nona only knew how aroused she was making me by just limply laying on the divan as she did. Much like she still did lying in our bed with our children in her stomach. That long gone day I remembered how I couldn't keep from looking at her as she sighed in the heat, and I had shifted in my chair trying to think of something other than this woman I adored so deeply. Just because I could not be with Nona did not mean that I could not admire her. I thanked the Gods for the doorbell's ring at first. Once she left to answer it I was able to calm myself by finding an article in the paper. But, that only lasted a few minutes.

When Nona burst into the room proclaiming that my elder brother Mycroft was our visitor, I was shocked. What would have pulled Jupiter from his orbit? I hadn't the time to assess that chain of thought before Mycroft himself stormed in. I swear I nearly came to killing him when he abused Nona's wrist and lower such ridiculous accusations towards Nona. As if any could fool me into helping in such an activity! Obviously my elder brother had as little faith in my abilities as our father. To be honest, if Watson hadn't fired that shot I do believe I would have given Mycroft a taste of my fist.

I only introduced Nona as my associate, mostly because I knew that Mycroft would eventually see easily that I had feelings for her. My brothers I had never completely fooled in my life. Though it looked that I was fooled. To say that I was furious would be a crude understatement at the least  … in fact there were no words to describe how betrayed and angry I was at that moment. I could also see that Nona knew of this. How could they do that to me? All the time I believe it was our successes that built up _our_ business, when in truth it was Watson's writings! 

That reminds me, I have a prank that I will need to sort out. Another time perhaps. Nona sighed, but did not wake. Good, the twins were draining her down as the time passed. Nona Holmes, with her seemingly endless supply of energy, had been taken down by two unborns. I couldn't hide my smirk at that thought. Until I realized that soon there would be two children in my life as well. I wondered if I had the energy to deal with this.

When Mycroft told me that our elder brother was charged with murder I hadn't expected this kind of case! That meant I had to go home. Until recently that was a journey I avoided at all costs. The last trip had been for Sherringford's wedding. Before that had been when I stood toe to toe with Father and told him I'd rather be banished and be a detective than finally return to his good graces by becoming the engineer he wished. I felt that the death of my mother had been handled all wrong, and refused to ever let that ever happen again – not if I could intercede! Not all officers were bunglers and fools, but it seemed that there were so many of them. Father refused to even look at me at that point; I found myself in London the next day. But my eldest brother, Sherrinford, refused to let me go without money at the least and had been sneaking me a little more every year until I got a good nest egg put aside. My son and daughter wouldn't be left wanting at least. 

Mycroft knew that he'd goad me by saying I was afraid. It irritated me beyond anything and all that he still knew me so well, even though we hadn't seen one another in sometime before then. I told him to help me pack as a signal that indeed we needed a private discussion. "Where do you get off thinking I am afraid? You are just as wary of returning home as I, _dear brother_. And you are not the one who has to …"

"Sherlock, I don't want to deal with Father any more than you. Still, this is Sherrinford we're talking about! Our brother needs us." That was not good enough for what Mycroft did. I would not be made weak in front of Watson and my Nona! "I am going because Sherrinford needs me! Never forget that. Once the case is over and he is safe, I will be returning to London without a word."

"Agreed. Hurry, the train leaves in twenty minutes."

It took me a mere five minutes to grab what I needed most, as I was all too familiar with how and what to pack for an extended stay when on a case. But, when we rushed down the stairs to see Nona in the strangest outfit I had ever seen I had a hard time piecing the facts into an organized series. Then I saw her bag on the floor at her feet and the most determined look in her eyes ever.  I knew my voice betrayed my shock. She couldn't really intend on coming with me? This was family business, and my family was one she would not enjoy meeting.

"And here I thought you were a genius!" How annoying her timing for acting playful could be. Nona obviously knew that I knew what she had planned – how could I stop her from finding out the truth about me if she came along on this case? Father would easily see how I feel about her, and then end my dreams with a few words. '_Did you know the **great** detective is a bastard, or had he forgotten to mention that **small** detail?_' I'd lose Nona in a heartbeat with that. Then Watson came down the stairs with his bag – they would both find out the truth if they came with me, and I would lose them! 

Watson, however, was adamant in their coming. When he said, "Your business is our business," I couldn't believe Watson really meant that. Was that what he really felt? What about Nona? Is that what she felt? When Nona threatened that she and Watson would come and stay at a hotel if necessary, I knew the answer to my question. I had never felt this much care since after losing my mother and losing contact with my brothers. Only then did I see that I had drawn around me a new family. Then Nona added on, "Now, are we leaving, or are we going to stand here until we miss our train?"

Nothing would stop my Nona, and our friend Watson. I fought my emotions, but could hear that my voice gave it away, "let's be off then." How had I come to have such true compatriots?

I still wondered as Nona shifted in our bed, drawing me out of my memories. Even when had no memory of our past relationship, she trusted and stood at my side. The woman had yet to not surprise me.

***

All through that first long trip home, I was panicking inside. I missed my brother Sherrinford, and had not seen him since his marriage. Yet, I had to deal with my father. A man I knew would destroy the family I opened my eyes to at last see I had created and would think nothing of it. I asked myself why did this have to happen now? What would the two people I trust above any other think of me if Father shot his mouth off? Even during the carriage ride I felt my heart race. I knew that life was going to change with this case; I simply didn't know how it would.

Was he still the same man? No, he had learned from that case and another. Now he loved me again, he adored my beautiful wife, and was beaming with pride at the twin grandchildren that would be soon in coming.

Seeing Sherrinford for the first time in so long had helped to calm my nerves a bit, I was able to shake off my fears enough to pull myself together to help me evaluate him. I saw that being a husband, father, and squire agreed with him. His obvious health, minus the dark circles beneath his eyes from this case that is, meant that Holly was taking good care of my brother. 

Ironically, the first time we came back after my wedding to Nona, my elder brother treated me to much the same inspection. The twist coming that he was inspecting my wife!

Honestly I was curious at the boy he had sired and how Nona and Watson would take the thought of a young Holmes running about. 

I introduced Watson and Nona to find that even my family was fans of Watson's writings. Nona gained strange looks, but I expected that fully given her outfit. I still couldn't think of a single explanation for whatever it was she had obviously created herself. 

I remember wishing I could go to mother. It had been so long, and my heart still cried out for the woman. Now she and father … I will not go there! They were resting in their room. I had wanted to introduce my love to her, and I had done just that. Mother had moved Nona into my life and kept my wife from dying. For all of that I would be forever grateful. 

When Nona defeated my eldest brother, with a play I doubt very much she could successfully accomplish ever again, I was not only vindicated but also proud of her. That had been all I had wanting, to she her shine as she always had when faced with a challenge. Especially after I had warned my eldest brother not to underestimate her. Though the looks of shock on her face and on the others were memorable! I full well meant it when I said that she'd win for the shock value – after all, that was a reason Nona did anything in this age.

And without fail, Nona performed better than my expectations – both in the game and with the case, as she herself pushed for a base investigation. As the night and game both drew on, I was shocked when Nona brought up Darby Edwards. I had never liked the man, but to just condemn him for dislike – that is not me. Yet there had to be a reason that Nona would bring the man up. To my knowledge they had never met, as I knew all the people she had met and knew. But then my mind drifted back in memory of looking out the window and her climbing out of a cab. Was he the one I was uneasy about back in December? No, he would have said something to Father, who would have used Nona against me from the start.

When they began to disrespect Nona for her intuition it irritated me, and I had to stand for her! "'A woman's guess is surer than a man's certainty.'" I pointed out and completely believed when my sole acknowledged female partner gave that guess. Even if they didn't believe in her, I knew Nona enough to know she would only bring Edwards up for a reason. I will admit that I was amused when Mycroft pointed out, "the female of the species is deadlier than the male." As I leaned back in my chair I saw Nona look at me with shock in her eyes, my nervousness made my smile twitch but I knew Nona understood that I believed in her – even if it surprised her as much as it did everyone else in the room. They all knew how I felt about women, however none but I, save maybe Watson, seemed to know how I felt for this unusual woman named Nona Erminguard Brown. She seemed to accept my words as true and catching my eye with a, albeit shaky, smile succeeded in beating my eldest brother with a shot I doubt she would ever try to perform again. I was so proud of this woman. 

Then, when Father recanted on the bet and left the room she said **that** word with such a jibe and sneer … I dropped any hopes and dreams I held at that moment. **Bastard** … exactly what I was, and she obviously dislike such as me.

I went straight to my room and drowned my emotions in my syringe. I had broken dreams of what life might have been as hers, and what she would say to me after finding out my secret. By morning, I had hardened my heart and focused on the task at hand. I refused to let her get close to me again – she was an associate, and nothing more.

***

When Sherrinford told my nephew to come out and meet me the next morning, Nona warned me that little Virgil idolized me. Obviously she had at the least had a conversation as to who she was and why she was here with him. I was stunned at what this boy really thought of me, given what his grandfather had most certainly told him about me. When this younger version of me came out of the library, frightened but facing his fears, it struck a cord within me – like one of many dreams I once never bothered with in a physical form standing before me … dreams that I only began to dream when Nona came into my world and my heart. Dreams I refused to ever entertain again.

Seeing the magnifying lens in his pocket, I remembered my first such equipment – one that my mother had given to me when I was about this boy's age. I decided to test him, just to see if the family skill had decided to skip this generation. To my shock he read me from that precious watch Nona had given me for Christmas better than I had dared to hope for. I knew then that this boy would be a great detective someday, that he would one day follow my lead, and he could be a significant aid in this case. I assigned him to keeping watch over the home he obviously knew as good, if not better than, I did at his age. The single best decision I had made in many years. I was only mildly stunned when he drew closer to me when Father came out to mock me as always. Even with the old man's malevolent words this child looked up to me and wanted to be like me. What did I ever do to deserve a faithful admirer? And then, when I felt my heart break at Father's words, I only barely registered Nona slip her hand into mine. Good old Watson thankfully spoke up and we left for the stables so that my eldest brother could tell off our father. Perhaps I would start spending more time here after Father was gone. It seemed that I was not evil to my family – only him.

We stood around waiting at the stables, and for what – Nona Brown! I couldn't believe that she sent the horse back because of the saddle. Couldn't she do anything like a Lady? No, if she did she wouldn't be that rapacious woman I so adored. Mentally cursing myself, I knew that I had to stop thinking her as that! Obviously there was no future with her, so why pine for that I knew I would never have? Still, I couldn't help finding her first attempts to mount the horse amusing. I got off to help her, overestimating my strength – I nearly let her fall! How could I do that? She could have been hurt and it would have been my fault! I just didn't get enough sleep the previous night – that is all it was. When she wouldn't stay out of my business I couldn't help growling at her– she had no right to my personal problems, or to criticize my behaviors!

***

At the crime scene I was stunned to find that Watson's becoming my reporter did have some benefits. That had been the best scenario for a crime scene I could have ever imagined, and no Lestrade to muddle it up. London needed a few constables like the ones that were in North Riding! I went through the scene and found more there than I had ever in any other scene past. I also found new questions. Seeing Nona's continued trouble with riding, I decided to make the day easier on us all. We quickly cleaned up to go to meet with the Chief Constable, Baybury. He was a much more interesting version of Lestrade, and much more than I expected from the countryside's branch of the force. I glanced at my female partner out of the corner of my eye going into the morgue. I was sure Nona would have fainted, left the room, or in some other way act like a proper lady in the presence of the dead woman's corpse – but she surpassed all of my expectations (as she often did) by not having any visible reaction at all outside of wonder. Secretly I was proud of her for a moment, until I got a good look at the woman's body! The sight left me enraged – there had been no autopsy performed! Good old Watson volunteered to do it himself – and no other medical man in the world would I trust as highly as John Watson, even if I rarely said such (and, only when the need was there, say otherwise). This time I did say so, because it left so much worry off of my mind – if there were any clues to be found on the dead woman, I knew that he would find them.

However, that left Nona and I to do the interviews on our own … as if that mattered – she was merely my associate, nothing more. When we found St. Clair asleep in the back of the cart I fought off the urge to chuckle at him. It would have been a pleasant trip, if Nona had just minded her own business. But no, she just had to nose about my affairs. Oh, how angry I was at her … and at myself, for not making her feel better – but this was my private shame, I would never weigh her down with it. The last interview I made such because I hated Darby Edwards with all that was within me, and had so since childhood.

It wasn't that old fencing match … that I knew I had honorably won, even if it were only in my own mind. It was how he flaunted his wonderful relationship with his father, and point out my dishonorable position with my own. I didn't hide my detest of him nor made friendly with the scum – yet, Nona was flirting with him and acting like some airy female. Perhaps I was wrong that she felt anything for me, and that she was any different from the everyday woman I detest. After all who would want me? But it hurt. As much as I would fight it, I did care about her. 

Nona explained that it was Darby I had been worried about her traveling home with during the last holidays. Perhaps something during that cab ride that I didn't dare consider before … no, she had decided to add his name to our list of suspects only the night before. Maybe he spurned her. Then she would be exonerating him before I return to my shattered dreams and equally broken heart that night. All to do was wait.

On the ride back home I was hurt and angry with this woman I dearly adored. When she used my own words against me it irritated me further. How dare she! When Nona pointed out how she, and not I, was mingling with the primary suspect … had she really used the word PRIMARY? So, Edwards means nothing to her. She further pointed out her logic to do such, I tried to find some fault in her logic … but there was none. When I snapped about why she hadn't warned me, I felt the hidden pain in her voice as she again used my earlier words. I had hurt her, I didn't mean to do that – it was just that I didn't want to lose her, but it appeared that was exactly what I was doing. I explained what had happened at that long past fencing match and then we were silent the rest of the trip. I fumed at how deeply this woman affected me. Yet, I couldn't brush off how hurt her eyes were. Nona was easy to read, and I knew she was in pain because she wanted to help me with my own – but why?

***

Tea that evening was somber. I wasn't in a talking mood; I just wanted Watson to come back with good news. When brought back the news that Sherrinford was exonerated I was stunned! Once again my friend had come through! I was not going to let that moment pass without telling him just how he stood with me. But I knew that the news was too early. We had to find out who did this to my dear brother to prevent any further such attempts on Sherrinford's liberty, and his exoneration would ruin any chance of that. But indeed we all celebrated that night.

I went in search of Nona later in order to apologize only to overhear her argument with Father. After disrespecting Watson and then myself, Nona defended us both. I didn't deserve her. And then Father sneered me further. He nearly told her the secret I prayed that my angel would never discover. He knew what I wanted so desperately – to marry the most wonderful of all women, Ms. Nona Brown – and told her just that. He warned her of my secret tarnishing her view of me. Her words to him still ring in my ears and warm my heart. "Sherlock Holmes is the finest man I have ever known or shall ever know, and if he should marry me, then my one regret would be gaining YOU as a father-in-law!!"

She saw me as the finest man she knows and would marry me? Still that did not tell me how she felt for me other than her respect, so I returned to the celebration – yet, now I had some assemblage of hope in my chest. She was missing at supper, and I feared that Father had told her the truth. But afterwards she appeared with my visibly upset nephew who reported that Darby was a vampire. After I calmed him down and he gave me his full report then I saw the truth, and Nona calmed his fears by giving him a lark task of holding all vampires at bay. I could see that she would make a wonderful mother someday. If only it would be to my children.

***

I was not surprised that night when I saw that she had brought her disguise for this case and was using it very well. I was grateful and proud of the woman before me. She was everything I needed, and out of my reach forever. At least she was a woman that I could trust and respect, and one who could handle my jokes. Her struggles against my grabbing her from behind felt so good, and she smelled wonderful. If only we could have remained like that. But it was not meant to be; she turned in my arms and snapped at me. I chuckled and berated myself for her.

Her shock of how I knew for some time about her disguise, and when I asked her to come with me rather than taking on this exercise alone was endearing. Besides it gave me time alone with her, moments I would treasure. As we spoke there I was fighting my urges to kiss her, to hold her in my arms, to tell her what was in my heart … that I belonged to her. But I fought off my urges for us both, along with my brother. I showed her the secret door in the library and I saw that it impressed her deeply. We went down into the catacombs, I had wanted to come down here … wanted to bring her here … well, now I was doing both. Mother would have loved this wonderful woman as much if not more than I already did. If only Nona had met mother. But, some wishes would never come true, or so I had thought at the time.

In no time we were in the family crypt. Unwittingly she sat on the one tomb I felt was the worse place Nona could have sat on. It was only after I yelled at her that Nona knew on whose tomb she had been sitting on.

I saw that name … that beloved name … and I saw it all play again in my mind. Mother … the blood … I felt the aching pain all over again … the way Father stopped loving me … all because I had killed her. The woman I first loved and trusted without question … the woman who gave me life … my sweet mother … I killed her all because I wanted to play with Richardson! And then Nona's words found their way into my heart and mind. "It was NOT your fault!"

I tried to pull away from her grasp. Nona had no idea what she was talking about. She was guessing! There was no way she could know the truth! I was responsible! It was all my fault! I couldn't get away because she held me tight and refused to let me go as she continued by blaming the Black Fox. The fact that my angel knew the truth … my private shame … she knew … if only in part. I knew she was further out of my reach now for certain. To this day she refuses to tell me how she found out the truth – it is not important in her mind. I believed that she had to have not all of the facts. Or she would have hated me. " … he always said …"

"He was wrong, Sherlock. Your father felt guilty when your mother died, so he tried to blame you for it. And you've been letting him! Siger has been killing you for years, and you've been letting him! You have to realize that, Sherlock! Everything that man has said about you is a lie, including you being a bastard-"

That revelation shook me to the core of my being. Nona knew my darkest secret! Father had to have told her, intending to hurt me and save her before I foolishly proposed to her. I thought out that the only reasonable explanation was that she pitied me. But my angel didn't pity me … my name and bloodline meant nothing to her. She cared about me … that much she admitted to. It gave me new hope and courage. Oh, I wanted to taste her lips just once. The lips of a woman who was as wonderful as my dear mother had been in her lifetime. But Mycroft so **_sweetly_** interrupted the two of us! He was right to put the two of us on track, but I would pay him back later for that stolen dream that might have come true.

His information told me how it was the Edwards' made their money, but that was circumstantial at best. We needed more information. Nona hadn't understood us with our essentials conversation, so I explained what was obvious to us and that we needed more information. Mycroft just had to tell us to stay out of trouble. As if I had ever listened to him! I simply nodded and stormed off. Nona quickly caught up with me; obviously she would not have been accosted if I had kissed her – as I suspected she threatened Mycroft. While she was running to catch up to me I planned out exactly what I would do to my pig head of an older brother. Breakfast would be an interesting affair indeed next morning.

***

I brought up the tunnels and their history rather than have a repeat of the earlier episode. Once the case was over with … maybe, but not now. When she brought up that her class had only skimmed over Victorian England I was startled. She had become so fully engrained in my life; I didn't really remember life without her in it. She had to remind me that she was from the future. We discussed why I never asked her of the future as Watson, I gathered, did often, and why I simply accepted her words to be the truth without question or need of proof as it turned out Watson had (along with Mrs. Hudson as well). When I spoke of the brain as an attic, Nona pointed out that it was discovered that humans only use a small amount of their brains – perhaps this woman had things to teach me after all.

The entire walk was refreshing to say the least. Nona was witty, charming, full of intelligence, and had nerves as well as a large heart. Any woman of this century would have bored me to tears if I had allowed her to accompany me. But not Nona Brown. It would seem that I was born in the wrong century. Thankfully some movement of the fates rectified that situation pleasantly.

Once we got to the Goose and Crown pub, I quickly began to reassess what I was doing. Nona was a woman, despite her excellent acting and disguise. I had to take care of her, as she had no living family to speak of. What was I thinking of letting her come along on this dangerous mission? What would happen if we were discovered? However, Nona argued with me. Though she released me of responsibility for her, I would always be there to take care of her. I finally conceded. "I doubt that I would acquiesce if not for your previous performances in this alter-ego. You have a certain flair for the stage, Nona." She was shocked at that admission of mine. At least I still had an advantage over her in our partnership. "You had me followed back in London?!"  
  
"I followed you myself." I adored the way she paled at that fact. I had to fight off the urge to brush my fingers across her lips. "But I never saw anything when I went out!" How many time had I heard such? I still enjoyed it heartily, more so from her lips. "That is exactly what you were supposed to see. Off with you now, lest the spell you cast over me wears off."

Nona tugged her cap lower, grabbed her fiddle, and went in. As I watched her from the window a prayer to the only one I knew would care called out from my heart. "_Mother, please watch over Nona more than myself tonight. She has nerve, daring, skill, and talent – yet she lacks one key ingredient, experience. And thank you for moving such a wonderful woman into my life – for I know her arrival had to be your doing or request, perhaps a little of both._"  
  
I made my way over to her as she went into her first song of the night. My, how dear sweet Nona could play. I grabbed an empty glass in front of her and dumped a handful of change in it. I knew others would follow, and my sweet Nona deserved every cent these men gave and much more. A wink that she obviously recognized, and then I was off to work. I had to admit I was doing a bit more focusing on her than gathering information. This was the first time I had witnessed her play, and was enjoying the performance very much. After a time she stopped playing and I could see that her fingers couldn't take much more, well now I could focus on the task at hand. At least I did for a few minutes, and then I heard Nona crack her voice (though I'd know her voice anywhere) and cry out in a Cockney accent, "ey, lads! Drinks are on 'IM!!"  
  
A fight broke out and I fought to get over to her and move Nona out of harms way, too slow it seemed – someone punched her in the shoulder. I grabbed her and dragged Nona out of the bar. God, what had she been thinking? She could have gotten herself killed! I had never been so angry and worried at the same time at her before.

She snapped at me, obviously she was in pain from the blow to her shoulder, but was otherwise all right at eye view. She point out that she had given us an escape from our quarry. Darby Edwards had been there and sat next to my Nona. At least it looked like Darby hadn't noticed it seemed, and Nona had kept her ears covered this time. This case was filled with as many twists and turns as my relationship with this talented woman. Too much data in both cases, I had to set them in files and set it all in order to link the chain of evidence for the courts and for my heart. Once we were far enough away she gave me her full report, and had seemed to have better luck than I. Perhaps next time we would join together, and we both would glean more information as well as I would be able to keep her safer. 

I snapped angrily at her for it only because she had been so foolish! Seeing that my words were hurting her pride, I softened the blow with a compliment from my heart. "However, I will not deny that I rather enjoyed the sight of that cad getting trounced. Execution was a bit shaky, Nona, but full marks for a satisfactory result."

That did exactly what I had wanted. It brought out her beautiful smile. That eased my heart, so I was able to focus back on the case fully for the time. Nona was right when she asked about this case being a three-pipe problem (though I wondered how she knew that procedure of mine, when I had not need to do such in her presence to date). I started on my first and decided by its end that I would pursue Nona's hand. That out of the way, my mind and heart turned back to the case that had brought Watson and us to my childhood home in the first place. It was obvious that Darby was the true criminal – the only problem left was linking the information and arresting the good-for-nothing want-to-be Master. I doubted that I would sleep that night.

***  
  


Once we were home and safe I looked lovingly at this vivacious woman beside me. Nona obviously didn't know how to proceed in this relationship any more than I did. Once we were back home at Baker Street I was certain that things would find their own speed. After all for weeks we had been drawing closer and closer. Come the end of the year I was certain she would have been warmed to me enough that I could propose marriage with little fear of rejection. I could also see that currently she was very tired. Oh, how late it was. Nona somehow got out a goodnight to me through her shyness. I informed her that I doubted I would be sleeping that night.

I would have enjoyed sitting up with her as she asked, but I saw that she was fighting off sleep. I couldn't ask her to remain awake any longer. "No, my dear Nona, I would not dream of robbing you of your beauty sleep, which you do not need, of course," I couldn't believe how close I had come to insulting her! I had to make it up to my Nona. At least now my angel would have no arguments to gallantry. She indulged my chivalry. It felt so good to be next to her. But the time was so short, for soon we were outside her door. Nona's goodnight this time was firmer, obviously she recognized how she needed to slip into bed. I wished her a goodnight, but then I had to say something … about what she had said beside mother's grave. I couldn't meet her eyes as I thanked her. I still felt so ashamed. It would take me time before I could fully accept that my father's words were truly lies. Her words gave me courage and hope though. "It's true, Holmes, ALL of it." Then I felt her hand softly brush against my shocked face as she again said goodnight. Oh, she had my heart for always.   
  
I cleaned up in my room and returned to the library with a heart determined not to fail my brothers or my Nona. The rest of the night I struggled with tying all of the loose ends of the problem together. Somehow, a few were still untie-able. By the time I returned after dawn to my rooms to change for breakfast, I was still so close to the end and still just as far away from discovering the truth. Nona came down refreshed and sparkling; obviously she had little trouble sleeping once I left her side. She had also had a wonderful dream or two – one certainly included myself by the way she smiled at me. Could she have been dreaming of our wedding as I had in the past? Could she love me as deeply as I love her? The first thing I said to her was a good morning that was sweet and filled with honest love for the woman who sat beside me with eyes full of love, hope, and faith – if only I had some good news for her, alas there was none.

She settled the napkin in her lap as a maid appeared with a tray of breakfast, setting it before her. When my angel looked up at me with that secretive smile on her face, I felt my heart begin to speed in alacrity with love for her. "Good morning, Holmes. Any luck last night?" I hated to disappoint my dearest love, but I would never lie to her either. "Regrettably, no. My vigil was surprisingly unrewarding. Something is eluding me, something . . ." Watson added his bit, but I didn't answer as I tried once again to find the missing piece to solve this puzzle. It was why Edwards had done such. The evidence there was still shaky, and that one element could unravel the entire case if I didn't tie it firm. 

Mycroft deigned to arrive for breakfast a few moments later; it was time for the games to begin. He would pay for the kiss I might have gotten from the angel beside me the previous night. So the entire vigil had not been devoted to the case, my brother had this coming to him. He was certainly pleased with himself as he tried to glean a report from Nona and myself, just wait until my lesson for him hit. Childish as it was, my elder brother deserved it fully for ruining one of my dreams that might have come true – no matter how inappropriate a time and place it had been. Acting as if I only barely noticed him I pushed the 'sugar' bowl towards him as he accepted his morning cup of coffee from the maid. I could hardly wait for this! My free hand slid into Nona's at that moment, and reveled in how soft her skin was and how tightly she grasped mine in her own. I noted that it was the same hand that had brushed against my face only hours before.  
  
Using her free hand to stir her sugar into her cup of coffee, Nona brushed Watson's question aside with her coffee spoon, and I could tell she was forcing the indifference in her voice. Mycroft enlightened the rest of our previous activities, mostly on Nona, as he dumped heaping spoonfuls of _sugar_ into his coffee. He enjoyed the look of shock all at the table gave Nona and I. This one prank alone did not seem to fit. Oh, I would do him another lesson soon. Nona forced a sweet smile at him. For embarrassing my love, Mycroft would pay well! The only question was how to do it – some way that he could not say no and yet would love to kill me for forcing him into it. A courtship? No, it would be a punishment on any woman. Lengthening our visit? That could work, but how?  
  
Both Holly and Sherrinford were stunned by the revelation. But not Watson, he looked as if he half expected such from Nona for a long time. Oh, he did not see where my relationship with this wonderful woman was going before I?! It would be as bad as that first morning when I thought I had lost all of my deductive reasoning skills! After she used my eldest brother's own words against him, I wanted to burst into tears of laughter as she sat her cup back on the table and slid her now free hand back into mine. I enjoyed how the touch felt. 

Mycroft chuckled at the reactions and brief discussion. That is until he sipped his coffee, only to swallow it bitterly and seize his napkin to his lips in obvious disgust. "Salt!" he cried. "Someone replaced the sugar with salt!"

"Really?" Only then did I visibly return to the table completely, applying a slight pressure on my angel's hand to show just who had avenged our what would have been kiss. "Oh dear, brother mine, that is a shame. I wonder who could have done that? Quite the little mystery." Nona obviously enjoyed it, and Mycroft was burning with rage. But I was in no way through with him. Not by a long shot!   
  
Sherrinford quickly changed the subjects to avoid the fight we both knew would come, but his subject tore at my heart. I hated what this case was doing to the brother I knew would never do such to me as our middle brother had. His eyes were circled even darker than when I came here – meaning that he had found little sleep in the time I was here. Given his report on the family finances, I understood why. If I could only find that missing piece! What was worse was I couldn't predict when I would solve this! And then my angel came up with the answer! It had been under my nose the entire time – and she found it! "Count your blessings, Squire, at least we can already prove that you are the innocent party here. Who knows, if the case had gone to trial, you might have been ruined! With your reputation in tatters, you'd most likely have to sell the entire estate!  
  


I looked at Nona in my shock. She had really done it without knowing what she had done for me … for my family! "WHAT did you say?"  
  
She shook her head disapprovingly as she again said with a sigh. "I said, he might have had to sell the whole estate."  
  
She started to eat again and the last strands of the case were tied tight in my mind! I could see the entire picture clearly now! All thanks to a woman I would never wanted to be without! "Eureka," I kissed her cheek and rushed off to clear my brother and family's name. It was not on her lips, but I was delighted that I at last got to kiss my only love. It had to have shocked her, because I heard her fork hit her plate. I had things to do or I would have turned around and winked a smile at her. I, at least, had a sweet kiss to remember all of my life.

***  
  


I went home that evening in victory, and was greeted by the most beautiful of sights – my sweet Nona waiting for me in the foyer. I would have taken her into my arms, swung Nona around for joy, and kiss her deeply if I hadn't been such a mess. A few minutes later I went into the room to find she had gathered everyone as I asked (as if I had any doubt that my Nona would). When I reported my brother's freedom and that Edwards was waiting trial in the gaol, I was disappointed by the reaction I got at my declaration. After what felt like an eternity for me my dear brother and host asked me how.

I saw Watson mouth out my pet phrase, so how could I disappoint him and lose the chance to see my angel at the least smile. "Elementary, of course." I am always willing to admit when I have help, and in this case I doubt I would have solved it so quickly without all the help I found, so they too deserved to be recognized. I glanced over at the angel who had given me that last aid right when I had needed it the most, and the doctor who cleared my brother long before I could. There was also my little nephew, who even then was obviously going to take over the company after I would retire.

For a moment there was nothing, and then everyone at once burst from their seats and applauded. Nona took my arm, smiled up at me, and gave me the sweetest praise that I had ever heard since my mother's death. I was about to tell them that Nona deserved the most congratulations when he struck. The old man couldn't just say nothing and be done with it! I didn't care what the old man said about me or Baybury – but when it came to Watson and **MY** Nona, that was where I drew the line deep! No one would ever put them down! "I may tolerate your words to me, FATHER," I spat out that word with every bit of hate I felt towards the man it was aimed for at that moment, "but you will never slander my friends so. I forbid it."

"How dare you!!" Father growled at me with his eyes lit with hate. I felt Nona cringe next to me because of him, I stepped to put myself between them both. My only fear being for her safety at that moment. When Sherrinford stood up for me, I found that I was not the only one in shock. He walked over and stood between myself and Father. I had always looked up to this man, and now he gave me all the more reason to do just that. And then Mycroft too stood up for me. Father stormed out angrily and his words went with him. I believed my Nona completely, mother's death was not my fault. And now my brothers too showed just what they believed. Sherrinford didn't need to apologize, but it was nice to know that he had learned from Father's mistakes.

Once it was only Watson, Nona, and myself I settled on the middle of the couch and relaxed. I felt so whole, for the first time in so very long. I was home and felt happy to be there. I was with the only ones I needed ever and they are the only ones I ever held myself up to their expectations. That one moment, I felt as if I could really relax at last. I fought off the urge to laugh when Nona complained, "well, you know, as far as cases go, that was rather anti-climactic. I was expecting a big confrontation with the murderer, a shoot-out, the whole nine yards." She shifted as I rested my hand on hers. "Kinda disappointing." To my joy she twisted hers to take a hold of my hand.  
  
"Well, Nona," Watson's sighed. "Seeing as how no one was blackmailed, poisoned, stabbed or shot, I'd call it a rather satisfying ending." After that I couldn't help but laugh, along with the two people I trusted above any other. I took a deep breath and finally said words I had never said to either of these friends in the time I had them in my life. Mother would want me to, especially to sweet Nona. So, I would do it for her and them. "I wanted to thank the both of you, you know. For assisting me."

  
Watson's voice told me more of his embarrassment than his shifting in his seat "Come now, old boy, it isn't as if you couldn't have completed the case on your own."  
  
"I most likely could have," I agreed with him. "But could I have done it before trial date, and without damaging the family name? That much remains uncertain. And that is why I valued your help."  
  
Nona turned to look at me without knowing that I was watching her out of the corner of my eye. I had to fight myself to keep my hands from pulling her into my arms as she spoke in her strong voice. "Knock off the melodrama, Holmes; you stink at it. Your thanks are dutifully noted and gratefully accepted. After all, that's what friends are for." My heart lit up at that. Oh, how I wanted to hold this wonderful woman and kiss her until we both so desperately needed air that we finally break apart – even if Watson was in the room and the rest of the house might walk in on us – I didn't care at that moment. However, I did care about my sweet Nona, and about her good name. That meant I had to hold back until we were properly wed – if she would someday accept my proposal. I got off the sofa before I broke down to my needs and started for the door, calling out over my shoulder, "I'm going to bed."

I slept wonderful that night. And in my dreams I was introducing Nona to my mother just before our wedding day.

***  
  
The next morning Father refused to leave his rooms until after I left, Sherrinford and Holly were vibrantly discussing the plans for their celebrations that weekend, and my sweet Nona was withdrawn and pensive as she picked at her food. My guess was the loss of her spacious room and the expected heat of summer in London was what kept her quiet. Holly mentioning the upcoming ball brought Nona back the conversations around her with a look of joy in her eyes and a beautiful grin on her lips. 

Sherrinford spoke to Mycroft and myself in his usual manner of trying to guilt us into his will. "Of course, we will convey your condolences for not being able to attend."

At that Nona returned to picking at her plate. She had obviously never been to a ball just as she had never gone to the opera before moving into Baker Street. How much finery my angel had missed in her life! Fine, I would suffer through an intolerable ball for her sweet sake alone, with the added bonus of Mycroft too disliked them – here was the perfect lesson for him to keep his words away from my angel. "Come now, Sherrinford! For ages you have badgered me to spend more time with the family, and now that I am here, you shove me out the door! Kindly make up your mind!"

Nona looked at me as if I had gone mad, just as the rest did in turn. So, I had surprised my angel? Wait until the night of the ball! That was when I would ask to court her. Only a few days away.  
  
"Do I take it that you wish to stay, Sherlock?" Sherrinford asked in shock.  
  
I relaxed back in my chair, and took that last confining step. Watson glanced over at me oddly for a moment, he knew me well enough that he saw exactly why I was doing this. Finally he shrugged in agreement. Nona beamed in her excitement as she too agreed before I could change my mind. Now to hook Mycroft, teaching him well not to tease and tattle on his brother and more importantly to leave my Nona alone from here on out. I grinned over at his murderous glare. "And you, Mycroft? Will Jupiter stray from its orbit any longer?"  
  


His glare didn't change as I grinned over at him, daring him to say no. Finally, I won out. He sighed and grumbled in answer, "I suppose that the office will survive until Monday."  
  
Sherrinford clapped his hands, and I saw his face light up for joy. That made it worth the suffering I would go through later at least. Sherrinford had to bring up wardrobes. I agreed with it, but I disliked the idea of wearing formalwear and he knew it. Honestly, I disliked what I knew would happen the moment I came into the room, a sea of brainless females trying to hold me away from my sweet Nona. But I had committed myself to this, and would not change my mind when the idea of a ball pleases my Nona so much. Nona was suddenly talkative and overjoyed. At least I had made her happy. It was Wednesday, meaning I had to suffer three days.

  
***  
  


Once I had endured through my fitting, my eldest brother informed me to stay out from under his feet. His little wink told me that my ulterior motives in remaining for the ball were obvious to him. Thankfully, he kept it to himself – as did the now wiser Mycroft, who was still glaring at me during our fittings. Three days to relax with my Nona.

I watched as she enjoyed herself fully in those wonderful days. She twice convinced me into games of hide-and-seek with Virgil, which I admit I enjoyed. Once I followed and joined her for wonderful tea at the St. Clair's. Finally I talked her into riding sidesaddle a few more times on Duchess, which she seemed to enjoy at last. Twice she and I just sat quietly reading in the library. Those times I had privacy with Nona were wonderful.

  
Finally I had to admit that I had forgotten how to dance on Friday. I just knew I would ruin things for Nona by fumbling through dances or by not showing up at all. I finally, groaningly, asked my brothers to help me. Watson agreed to play piano and keep his snickers to himself and this episode silent from Nona and the world at large. Sherrinford wrapped a tablecloth around himself to simulate a dress. God, he looked ridiculous! I tried hard to remember quickly before we were caught.  
  


I moved around with Sherrinford, feeling ridiculous, while Mycroft snapped out. "One-two-three, one-two-three, one- oh, come on, Sherlock, it's like riding a bicycle! You never forget!"  
  
"It's all well and good for you to say 'come on,' but what the devil am I supposed to do with my left foot while I'm turning with my right?! And you've made me lose count!" I couldn't take much more. I had to have been crazy to agree to this! But then Nona's cheerful face came back to mind and I buckled down to learn what I had forgotten.  
  
"You aren't supposed to count, Sherlock, let the music count for you!" Watson took that as his cue to pound out the third note louder. It was beyond annoying at that point. Mycroft finally started counting out for me. And I was so irritated that I didn't notice what everyone else saw coming fast as our brother shouted to myself and Sherrinford, "One-two- oh, look out!"

He spoke too late! I tripped over a loose fold of Sherrinford's tablecloth skirt, and we both hit the floor hard. Then I heard laughter, including my Nona's twinkling giggles. She, Holly, and Theresa came into the room giggling like mad and applauding. Nona cried out as she tried to regain some control over herself behind her hearty clapping. "Bravo! Encore!"  
  
I had never blushed as hotly as I did before this woman. How did she do this to me? "Nona, whatever you were going to say, don't say it!" Nona slowly controlled her laughter as she asked for lessons on dancing. Did they not teach her anything in the future was the first thought that came to me at that request. No balls, no operas … I feared what the world was going to become. When she commented on our learning together, I could help but snap, thankfully she took it in stride. When she pointed out that she would make a better partner than my brother I had to heartily agree, given as beautiful as she was in that dress she wore. Then my angel smiled slyly over at my eldest brother. "By the way, Squire, you simply MUST give me the name of your seamstress." I couldn't help but smile as Sherrinford huffed out that it was a trade secret. 

Watson returned to the keys and began to play once again. As Nona stepped closer to me, I felt she was nervous. As she slid her hand into mine I felt the difference in our bodies and knew that those differences drew me closer to her. My free hand slid around her waist, and felt how skittish she was. I was scared that I would step on her feet, or trip her. I looked in her eyes and saw she too was nervous, if she only knew how that helped me as Mycroft told us to begin and Watson began to play. At first we moved shakily about somewhat well. And then I stepped on her foot! God I felt like such a fool – why did I agree to all of this? And then Mycroft tried to blame my angel. "Now, now, the blame is partly yours, Nona. As I said earlier, you need to anticipate Sherlock's movements."

She snapped back at him. "How am I supposed to do that? It's not like I'm psychic."

I saw a way to explain it easier. "I believe it is comparable to your actions in Baker Street, when you often foresee what I need before I ask for it."

  
"But that's not prediction; that's just using my head."  
  
"Precisely." I reached out my hands to prove my point. "Use your head, Nona, and try to anticipate where and when I move." I knew if I challenged her, Nona would rise to the task. She was too proud not to. I focused on my feet at first, but all too soon my soul was swept into her eyes and she became the entire world to me. I knew without question that she was the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my days. After a time Nona and I realized that the music had stopped before we did. Watson flexed his fingers and apologized to us, "I'm sorry, Holmes, Nona. I just can't play any longer."  
  
"That's quite all right, doctor," Mycroft muttered softer than I had ever heard him speak "I believe that they have grasped the rudimentary basics, at any cost." Then I knew that he too saw Nona for the amazing woman she was to me, and that I cared for her above any and all.

Nona blushed beautifully for a moment before stuttering out that she would be in the library. She gave the room a ravishing smile and retreated out of the room. At the door she glanced my way and I couldn't hide my love for her. She was my world and I finally showed it on my face. She too showed me her love in her eyes. I had a chance. The next night, I intended to finally take one of the last steps. I would ask to court her – if I only I had the courage needed to ask her to marry me in that short time.

  
***  
  


Saturday night so slowly and so quick at the same time. All too soon I could hear the music coming from the ballroom, and it made my stomach twist. Finally, I just couldn't keep what little I ate earlier down. I sent Mycroft to get Watson. This couldn't be happening now! Not tonight! How could I be sick?

I heard Nona's entrance, and imagined what she looked like from what she described her dress earlier to be as far as color and material. All I could see was her beautiful face. God, I knew in that moment with no doubt that I needed that woman. Watson came in and checked me, saying that it was only my nerves. It couldn't be! And then he spoke of how many men were dancing with my Nona! That angered me beyond anything. I told him I was fine and needed to finish getting ready. How dare any man go near my Nona!

When I glanced in the room before my announcement, I saw Nona and Watson on the far side of the room, sitting and talking. Good old Watson had kept her safe for me. I knew I would owe that old man for a long time just for this night alone. The herald sounded and there was no turning back. "Announcing Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"  
  


I was nervous, but I held it in as I met eyes with my sweet Nona. By the time I made it to the bottom of the stairs I was encircled by a heckle of fanatical females. They knew all the details of the case, but wanted to hear it from me as the fluttered their eyes at me. Each trying to gain my arm for themselves, bring up my single status and theirs – like any other woman of the day. This was not why I agreed to this awful ball – I wanted to make a dream come true for Nona. And then I heard her sweet voice as Nona took my arm. "Sherlock, there you are!" She smiled up at me and asked with a deal of control, "I thought you promised me a dance, Sherlock!"

For a moment I had no idea what Nona was talking about, and then I saw what she was doing – getting me away from the horde of hens that had swamped me. I smiled at her as I laid my hand atop of hers. "Of course, Nona, how remiss of me. If you will excuse me, ladies ... " I sighed with relief when we got to the other side of the ballroom and wiped the sweat that frightening cackle of women brought out of me. "Thank God! Give me bloodthirsty murderers by the bushel; they at least make better conversation than that lot!"

The sound of her twinkling laughter made my nerves settle. "Well, Holmes, let's just say that you owe me one. What on earth kept you so long? It's nearly midnight!"

I didn't want to talk about that. I would never be weak in front of my angel. "I was feeling a bit under the weather, Nona. I see that your bruise is healing nicely."

"What? You can tell?" That shocked her and changed the subject easily.

"No, I cannot." Nona had deduced what I saw, or rather what I did not see. I explained my reasoning and saw her smile and her beautiful eyes roll. Then I took her in fully. She was more ravishing than I dared dreamed. Her off the shoulder dress gave me my observation, and a view of her chest I hadn't seen in nearly a year. The green color was a wonderful color on her creamy skin. I had to make myself breath after I took in the sight before me. "You are very beautiful this night, Nona."  
   
She blushed softly and beautifully at my words. "Thank you, Holmes. You are, too. I mean," she amended rapidly as I reacted, "you know what I mean." I knew what she had meant, but the way her skin colored rosily made me want to embrace her close. There was only one proper way I could – a dance. I could only hope we would not have that mishap we suffered our first dance together. Still, I couldn't believe how idiotic I sounded at that moment. 'We could exercise our newly-acquired skills.' I was sounding like a lovesick adolescent! And though I was no longer an adolescent, I admit I was very much in love. Thankfully she forgave me of it. "Holmes, are you asking me to dance?"

"Well, yes."  
  
She set her hands on her hips, and gave me the most beautiful view of her chest and shoulders that nearly caused my heart to stop.  "Then ask me properly." I gave her a humorous grin as I took her hand and bowed before her. I knew that I didn't really have to ask her, given she obviously had been waiting that night for my arrival. "Miss Brown, would you grant me the supreme honor of a dance?"

Her smile told me that my deduction was correct. I loved her so much that I didn't know how I could ever live without her. To my joy she replied, "Mr. Holmes, I would be delighted."  
  


***

We danced nearly non-stop for hours. I remember what we spoke about, but to be honest I can't remember what exactly we said to one another. Some moments we didn't speak and it felt as if this woman was the whole of the universe. All too soon we both were foot sore, tired, and hot. I escorted my angel outside, never knowing that we were being watched. All I was focused on was the woman who was sitting beside me on the railing looking out at the night sky. I didn't know how to ask her to be mine alone. And more so I had this nagging question in the back of my mind – a question in the case I had not been answer. "Why did you suspect Darby Edwards, Nona?"

I saw on her face that she didn't want to talk about the case, but I needed the time her explanation would give me to gather my courage. "Well, Holmes, I guess you could say woman's intuition." I couldn't hold back my snort at that. That was what normal women said. I figured that somehow Nona knew how this case would end – after all she said herself that she knew nearly everything back when I left for the Sumatra case. She became very imperious at that. "Off your high horse, Holmes, it's a respectable claim. It has been scientifically proven that the clusters of nerves in a woman's brain are closer together than in a man's. A woman has the ability to process less data much faster than men, hence 'woman's intuition.'" And then she grinned slightly as she added on, "in fact, you could say that every woman is a born detective."

I went silent at that. Was she serious? Finally I broke down into laughter. That could be very correct in the future, but – given how my angel acts – women in the future are a very different sort. In my day, no. I bantered her a bit thought for it, just to see her smile. "Every woman- oh! Oh, Lord, my livelihood! My occupation! Never tell another living soul, Nona, or I shall be ruined!"

I wiped away the tears my laughter brought out of me, shook my head, and sighed heavily. I knew full well then that I could ask her for her hand in courting or even in marriage. "How do you do it, Nona? You can turn me and my world upon its head, and make me enjoy it! If I solve ten thousand mysteries in my lifetime, I fear that I shall never solve you."

"I am glad to hear it," she smiled at me. "If you figured me out, I would cease to be interesting and you would soon discard me for the next problem."  
  


I became serious and took her hand in mine. I vowed myself to her forever. "I would never cast you away, my dear Nona."  
  


"I know, Holmes. I was only teasing." That sent my heart racing. That she had some minuscule idea of how much I cared for her. I raised her hand, not bothering to hide my feelings for her as I spoke before kissing her soft hand. "Your worth to me runs far deeper than mere intellectual stimulation."

Even in the dark I saw that her eyes were darkening with ardor. The moment was perfect, but I had to know that this and I were what she wanted in her life. Would she change her mind in a few months or years? "Do you ever regret your coming here, Nona? Here, to this time?"  
  
"Regret is a rather strong word, Holmes," she whispered to me. That gave me hope. "I miss my family, of course, and sometimes I wish that I could replace my modern conveniences, but regret?" When she shook her head so keenly, I dared to hope I would never be alone again. Then she continued. "No. Never regret. This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me."  
  
"The greatest?" I tilted her chin so I could see her beautiful eyes as I whispered. "Why?"  
  
"Because . . ." She answered me as I pulled her closer to my body. I was so frightened she would stop me, but she seemed to want this as badly as I. " . . . I found . . ." I felt her slide around my neck and pull me closer to her. I had no doubts now that she wanted this as well. My angel … my goddess … the woman I loved so very much. " . . . you . . ." I saw her close her eyes, and knew she was ready for my kiss. " . . . Sherlock Holmes."

Finally my lips brushed against hers. I felt complete because of that heartbeat action. But then the scream ripped through our moment. "Sir Siger . . . Chambers . . . oh, so much BLOOD!"

That tore into my heart – despite his treatment of me earlier that week and through my life, I loved that man because he was my father. We rushed into his room and my heart, which had only moments before had been filled with love and hope, shattered. Father was slumped over his writing desk and barely recognizable because of the awful wound to his hate filled face. One hand was hanging down limp at his side near the gun he had used to take his own life, the other was on the desk – clutching a piece of paper. I looked at it and collapsed on the spot. At that moment I wasn't there, I felt all of my dreams burst. Now there was no chance of my marrying Nona – once the suicide note became public. In fact my name would be maligned forever. I just stared at the man who, in the end, had won. He had ruined my life, as I had ruined his by killing my mother. Nona was wrong; it **was** all my fault then, as it was now. She was from the future … why hadn't she warned me? I could have talked to him. I could have left and arranged to come back to another ball when Father was not there.

Suddenly she was there beside me, taking the note from my hands as I continued to look at my dead father – I was now an orphan, and I might have stopped it. If only she had told me! She ripped the paper in her anger, settled on the floor beside me, and pulled me into her arms as she cried. Why would she cry? I simply lay in her arms as she rocked me and cried. I couldn't feel at that moment. I was alone, even in the arms of my love. Though I was beginning to wonder if I felt that for her at all, or was she using me?   
  


The next day, Mycroft gave me a telegram calling for me to return to London immediately. Thankfully he and Sherrinford understood that I wanted out of that place as fast as I could leave. That last fight with Father kept rolling in my mind, his words still tore through my tattered heart. I would prove to him that I was no charlatan! I didn't need Watson or Nona to solve a case. I could gain the information myself and set it in order without either of them. I spoke to them as little as I could on the way back to London. It was mostly because of Nona. My perfect Nona, the one who knew practically everything? She didn't know what my words to protect her would do to him. She didn't know what I **needed** to know! I left to interview my client alone, a simple case of blackmail. For a week I worked at my peak, shoving off those who once I would have found helpful. How could I ever trust her again? She failed me! She took my father away from me! And dear old Watson, he brought her into our lives, and wrote about me behind my back! At the end of the week I silenced the blackmailer, and collected my fee. This time I put it and what I had once saved for hopes all away into a fund for my retirement into privacy away from that woman! Let her remain here! She obviously could take care of herself, as she had told me such – time and again. 

I took my bottle of seven per-cent solution and blocked myself in the one room I knew she had no way to aggravate me, my bedroom – unless she was willing to become … I locked the door against that possibility and refused to listen to any of them. It was her fault that my father took his life, hers … and mine. I first killed my mother, and now I had finally killed my father as well. Even worse he took his own life – he would not be reunited with mother. I wanted to end the ache the missing holes in my life brought to me. I was an orphan and nothing would change that. She was from the future … she seemed to know so much, but in truth she knew nothing! Another airy headed female who was everything I hated.

Sunday I was forced out of my rooms by my exhausted supply of cocaine. I filled a glass of whiskey and downed it in one swallow. It burned as it went down my throat – the first time I had felt anything since that horrid night! I danced and kissed that transient good-for-nothing as my father loaded his pistol, I laughed and touched her as he pulled the trigger to end his life!

I collapsed into my chair after I nearly emptied the bottle. No cocaine, no alcohol, that meant I had to deal with that demon named Nona E. Brown. Pious, correct, and so good Nona. Why had I let her in my heart? She sat on my mother's tomb! She went behind my back and learned my secret somehow! Suddenly, the woman I hated more than any other in the world – the one who made my original assessment of women fully correct – stormed into the sitting room. Her voice was full of disgust as she began to berate me as always. "You've been drinking."

"How astute of you, my DEAR Nona," I spat at her, not meaning a word of it. Perhaps one of my enemies did send her to spy on me – even break me. Well, she had done it. She had taken everything from me. I toasted her victory with the glass in my hand and said before finishing my drink. "I am, as you so brilliantly deduced, drinking."

"I believe I should now ask WHY you are drinking. Cocaine suddenly lose its potency?" She crossed her arms too late, I saw them shaking. So, she knew she was discovered it seemed. "On the contrary," I jibed at her. "It would be the preferred alternative. However, my supply is depleted and," I looked up at the mantle clock, "since it is Sunday, the apothecary shops will be closed. In the meantime-" I waved my hand towards the sideboard and its nearly equally depleted alcohol supply.

"Any port in a storm, Holmes?" She glared at me and sneered. I just closed my eyes and tried to will her to leave me alone. I had never hated as I hated her at that moment – not even Darby Edwards. However she continued on. Bantering me, tormenting me, making me want to kill her. If she knew how close to striking her I was. My mother taught me however … my mother … Father. Then she began to disrespect my father – the man was barely in the ground a week and she was maligning his memory! I stood up and glowered at her. She had no right to talk about the dead so! But she kept on, so I put her in her place.  
  
"Oh, isn't it simple for YOU to preach," I growled at her as I made my point with each jab of my finger against her beautiful chest. No, I couldn't think of her in that way ever again. She'd kill the rest of my family if I did! "The flawless Miss Brown, who knows everything in history! You know nothing of what I am dealing with! What do you know of loss?!"  
  
Her eyes hardened and I saw tears begin to rise. She screamed and slapped away my hand. Then she counted off all that she had lost. Had it really not been a year yet? Felt like she was always there. I had forgotten that she too was without family. I had no idea that she had lost so much. She knew exactly what I was feeling and much worse. I wouldn't let her see me cry from the guilt my hate-filled thoughts earlier caused me. I drew back to the sideboard and hoped she'd leave me until I sobered enough to apologize properly. But, she simply pushed me over the edge. "Selfish, that's what you are, Sherlock Holmes! You're so wrapped up in self-pity; you have no regard how anyone else feels! Do you have any idea what you're doing to me? To Watson? You pride yourself on observation, but you can't see the very people under your ridiculous nose!!"  
  
That hurt me worse. I had ignored those I cared so much about because of what my father, who knew nothing about my abilities or me, had said. I didn't want to hear it! "Shut UP!!"  
  
"NO!!" She screamed at me. I heard the tears tightening her throat. But as I looked at the ceiling I let loose the words I had been keeping to myself for propriety's sake. I glared over at her. I couldn't hold it back; all of it tumbled out as she stood there. The second the words left my lips I regretted them, but I would never let it show. She deserved better than I. A last shout from each and then she ran down the stairs and I slammed myself back into my room. How dare she! How dare that female try to get back into my heart! One last gulp from my glass and I passed out thankfully. My dreams a tumble of what I had planned for Nona before, what I had been dreaming to do in order to kill her for my father's death for over a week, and then the nightmares began. I saw her after I killed her, her face a death mask of fear, and mother came forward. "William, she was innocent. I saved her from death to only have her only love kill her? Why baby? I cannot be with your father because he has yet to cross."

I woke with a throbbing headache and heartache. God, would Nona ever forgive me? I loved her, but what I had said … most of which I couldn't remember clearly, but I remembered her hurt expression and her tears. Father refused to cross over to face his judgment. So his death was neither on mine nor Nona's hands – he did this to himself. Mother told me that Nona loved me … would that angel still love me now? Mother had saved her from death?

When I finally stumbled into the sitting room I had to use my hand to block out the entirely too bright sunlight that came through the windows. "Close the curtains, Watson," my voice was as rough as my throat felt. I went to the table and got me a cup of coffee – hoping it was the stuff Nona had addicted me too rather than Mrs. Hudson's usual, only to find that Nona obviously did not help this morning with breakfast – the coffee was strong and burned. She deserved to rest after what I had put her through in my dreams. Watson didn't do as I asked as I sat in my chair, and I agreed that I deserved it. But then he snapped at me low. "You idiot."

  
I looked up at him and growled back. "WHAT was that??"  
  
"You, Holmes, are a dense, foolish, obtuse and thick-headed IDIOT."  
  
I wasn't going to accept this from the one doctor I trusted. But then he told me Nona had left us… possibly forever! No, not my angel! Where could she go? Why was she in tears? We had been talking and then … I went to bed … but I was so angry … what had happened? When Watson mentioned in his rant about my hurling remarks at Nona I feared the worse. God, I didn't say words that could not be taken back? No, no, not to my sweet angel! I wasn't in my right mind! I mouthed out, "my God." That was all I could think of at the concept of losing my only love to a return to her true time or worse death! And then Watson told me what I had hoped was true, but didn't see for myself, "Nona loved you!" He looked dead at me with no pity in his eyes. If I wasn't sure, I would have sworn he hated me – but why?  
  
I couldn't make my brain understand it. She had only gotten on my back so often because she was in love with me! What had I done? And then Watson let his feelings loose along with the truth he seemed to have held back from all but himself. "Yes, for what it's worth, she loved you with all of her precious heart. And here is something you never thought to deduce; I love her too!" He acted shocked by having said that, but now understood his hate towards me. "I watched her grow towards you, Holmes, and I buried my feelings deep in my soul, never thinking to impose upon you. I had hoped that you would someday return her love, and my efforts would not be in vain. But due to your own pride and foolishness, you have thrown it all away! Now she is gone!!"

I had lost my angel, and my friend all this time would have been all she ever needed if she had only given up on me. Nona deserved to be with him. I had to make the way for her to be with the better man … to be with Watson. It took all of my acting skills to hide the pain losing her was causing. I would dance at her wedding to my friend happily rather than lose her to death or another … what did she call it – yes, a hiccup. I shouted with every ounce of love for her I had, "AND GOOD RIDDANCE!!"  
  
Watson was confused thoroughly. So, my acting was good enough to give him to her. I forced myself to seemingly hate my one and only love. I taunted him about knowing this was what would happen if we let Nona stay. And then I looked at him as if I felt nothing while my heart was breaking into dust. "Now, old boy, I believe the playing field is clear for you. Marry her, murder her, whatever you wish; it's all the same to me."  
  
"You mean you do not love her? You do not care for her at all?" He growled at me. I would not lie to him. I laughed at how I thought of how to not lie and lie to him at the same time. "My dear Watson, whatever gave you that idea?" He stared at me as if I was mad – and I guess I was. The day after their wedding I planned to end it all, rather than live a day with my angel as the wife of my dearest friend. Watson condemned me as inhuman, I crossed my arms tight before me and let my mask falter only slightly. "If only, Watson. If only." After that I rushed to get dressed. I would bring Nona home and bring these two wonderful people together. By the time I was ready, Watson had already left. Good, he'd never know what I'm doing for him and Nona – my sweet angel.

I set the Irregulars to search the city for her, offering five pounds for her location. For well over a week and a half I left after breakfast and didn't return until late, doing all I could to make Watson hate me. If Nona knew how I brushed off her leaving home, she would abandon me for the one who would be best for her. And then that fateful night I went home only to be outwitted by my friend. I gave up the pretense. I loved Nona with all I was; at that moment I just wanted to know that she was safe and well. The irregulars hadn't found her, Mycroft had no idea where she was, and neither did his agents. Watson finally badgered me to where I would beg that woman to come home – as if I wouldn't in the first place.

And then he tossed me Nona's wire. The one place I didn't think of! She went to the only other place she knew in this century – my childhood home! I rushed to catch the train home, but it was too late and I was very tired … I listened to Watson for the first time in so very long. I went in and slept – dreaming of Nona's wedding to Watson and then walking off the cliffs of the area I planned to make my retirement home. Everyone was relieved that I was gone at last, but Nona had this distraught look on her face, as if she wished I were still alive. People were apologizing to her … calling her Mrs. Holmes? No, she married Watson! She belongs at his side not mine! She knelt by my grave and whispered, "I'll be with you soon, my only love. I can't live without you, nor can I love anyone but you."

I woke with a start! Nona wouldn't … no, she deserved a man who wouldn't treat her like I did! Wouldn't abandon her, as I did like – like my father did my mother's memory. I had become my father! Would she ever forgive me?  
  


I wired Sherrinford that Watson and I were coming, and was glad to see St. Clair waiting for us at the station. He let us in about what had happened in the time Nona had been missing. Once at the manor, Sherrinford greeted us jovially and explained that Nona and Virgil had gone to the woods to practice – seemed that my nephew still needed some training in violin to be my equal at that age. And then we saw Virgil running at us at full speed. The entire time it took to get to Nona I condemned myself for putting her in this situation. And then to find that it had inadvertently saved my father's life, but at the cost of my love's memories. But to feel her snuggle so close to me, and with her feeling safe only in my arms gave me hope.

Nona tossed in the bed in an attempt to be more comfortable, drawing me from my memories and into the present. This was the happiness I doubted I would ever have. I slid back into bed and rested a hand on her belly, feeling one of our twins shift under my palm. After a few minutes I took my hand away, sat up, and just watched her dream. Then I think back when I was ready to give their mother up if that had been what she wanted.

After the loss of her memories, I was happy that Nona agreed to come home. Once Watson left us for a few minutes, Nona and I talked, by then I had a vague idea of what I said to her, but I would not speak of it until I knew exactly what happened and so did she. Once we were home again she remembered the laughter that she had pulled out of me that night of the ball with her comment about intuition. Her first memory returned was of me … that was one of the best gifts she could have given me after all I had put her through. And then I walked to her open door to find her staring at that gown. When she told me how she remembered that first opera, my heart raced. Two memories in one day was quite an achievement in my eyes. 

And then she woke up screaming from the memory Watson saved her from that night she moved into our home. I never realized just what Watson did that night – a deed I would be eternally grateful to him for. Mrs. Hudson said nothing about my sitting on Nona's bed and holding her tight, but when we left Nona to what I hoped would be a more peaceful sleep, the landlady gave me a dark glare.

When Nona asked me to give up the two constants I had in my life since I went away to school – cocaine and morphine – I doubted that I had the strength needed to. I knew it would be hard, because I had not survived more than a few days without the drugs in the past. But, for her I would do it. I was harder than I first thought, and at times I felt like I was losing my mind – but her touch and voice held me strong. She cooled me off in the heats, and warmed me when the air around me was bitterly cold, she held and rubbed me in places that hurt, and was nearly always there for me. I became vicious to her verbally, and then she still left the decision to me … she let me make my own choice rather than forcing her view on me. I couldn't live without her. I was terrified that I had gone too far when I mentioned our marrying, but once I mentioned children and not wanting them to see me using drugs my Nona understood and accepted my proposal! I began to fight the urges with new fire – for my fiancée and the children I knew that we would soon have. Especially when she snapped at me that she was not going to leave me after I finally healed.

After all we had been through; Nona still married me. She even stood up to my worse enemy. And now, in a short twenty days, we would have two babies. I hoped with all of my heart that at least one of them looked like their ravishing mother. As she slept beside me I rested my hand on her belly again and felt our children moving inside of my beautiful wife. It was still a shock to me. I knew they were inside of my Nona, and that these angels were mine, but it was still strange to see myself as a husband and soon-to-be father. To be honest, I would have my life no other way.

Months before, Nona knew that there had been a threat against her and the twins, she just didn't know that it wasn't from Moriarty that I could deduce. A new criminal had appeared on the London scene. The note came just after I read about the death of one Mary Ann Nichols. A death I had set aside to be cut out for my records. And then came that note.

**_Can't wait till the little misses gets added to my harem, Mr. Holmes. That baby will look good in a pickle jar – dissected womb and all._**

****

**_                                                                        Yours_**

**_                                                                           Jack the Ripper_**

I wasn't going to risk my wife and children. Thankfully the existence of the note was enough to get Nona to agree moving back in at Oakstaff. She never knew that the place was under constant watch by the local police and Scotland Yard – seemed that I pleased enough of the Inspectors to gain the added help. Mr. Mac was the first in line to take care of my precious family (not a true shock, but gratifying nonetheless).

She was safe, but I missed having my beloved wife in Baker Street. I could see that I was not the only one – Mrs. Hudson, Grace, and Billy too were all barely going about their normal days. But Nona and the children being safe were worth the heartache for all of us. I was readying to leave for a visit when a new note arrived.

**_Think sending the little woman home and setting a few pups on her will keep me from getting her. Only time before she is mine … teach her where she belongs – on the street. That will make you look so good – a whore for a wife lying like any other tramp after servicing me._**

****

**_                                                                      Yours_**

**_                                                                            Jack the Ripper_**

That terrified me worse than any day of my life! I left at that moment. Mycroft accompanied me without asking me why, but we were both silent through nearly all of those agonizing four hours on the train. Luckily he thought of telegraphing our arrival, but not telling why. I shuttered at the implications of that message, and decided to bring my elder brother in to help me. "Mycroft, have there been any murders in the past twenty-four hours?"

He was still looking over me ponderingly. My question made him raise an eyebrow. "I thought that is your line of work, Sherlock. I wouldn't ask you about the state of the Kingdom would I?"

At that moment I wanted to shout and hit him, but no … I would keep my wits about me. One wrong decision could cost me both my love and our children. I simply handed over both notes. That was enough to make Mycroft understand how important this was.

He nodded and sighed heavily. "There was a murder last night, or rather early this morning. Just before six, at Hanbury Street in Whitechapel. The Queen has yet to hear of it, but that is only a matter of time. I don't have all of the facts at hand."

I waved it away with my hand. "I can get those when I return home later. I am spending time with Nona."

The rest of the trip continued in silence. By the time we made it to the station I had been able to pull together a mask of calm. Trevor St. Clair met us as always, with a bright smile on his face. "Master Sherlock! Master Mycroft! Everyone has been so excited since your telegram arrived, none more than Madame Nona."

I loved the sound of that – Madame Nona. "How is Nona, old friend?"

"She's coming along nicely. If she had her way she'd been in the carriage at the least. Mrs. Holmes talked her into getting things ready at home. But if we don't get along, she'll be walking here." Trevor joked.

I could see my wife doing just that. God, it had been worse than I first expected sleeping in our bed alone that first night after she left. The cases that came about in her absences were not as interesting, neither was life to be honest. I might be clean of those drugs her love purified my body of, but now I was addicted to a more powerful drug – I was addicted to my wife – and I was in desperate need of a dose of her. "Then we had better get home, before we have to run from her fury."

Everyone chuckled at that all too rare joke from me. Through the entire trip I was wishing that I were already there, holding tight to those I loved more than my own life. It felt as if the horses were walking at their slowest speed. Through it all, Mycroft had this knowing smirk on his face – between him and Watson I was uncertain who was worse! I just couldn't wait for him to get off of his high horse and beg Trish to be his wife.

After what seemed to be an eternity, we finally made it to Oakstaff. Sherrinford and Father were outside waiting on us. It still astounded me how Father treated me now. "Well, my boys come home from Town! So, what threat lay before us now?"

Mycroft and I were both stunned by this. We waited until we were inside before I commented. "I receive a threat against Nona and the children."

"The same kind as the one that made you send her to your childhood home?" Father pressed further. When I spotted my angel stomping her way down the stairs I simply whispered in answer before rushing to pull her into my arms, "worse."

Nona had never glowed as she did at that moment. I could see that the separation was as harsh on her as it had been for me. Her voice was music tainted with the grief of what distance there was between us. "I missed you handsome."

"Not as much as I missed you, Nona." I pulled her as tightly into my arms as I could with her swollen belly. "How are you and the children?"

"The three of us are fine. I'm just annoyed that I am rarely allowed out of our room." I could see tears building in my love's eyes. "They say it is because I have to rest for the babies, but I'm afraid that …"

"That **is** the reason love. Soon there are going to be two little lives coming out of you. All three of you need rest. Watson would agree with everyone." I tried to be diplomatic. Thankfully Nona was more interested in time with me. Without a word we went to spend most of the day together in our bed. I remained at Oakstaff for that week to ease the loneliness I know both Nona and I were suffering from. How it hurt to leave. Still, knowing that my wife and children were safe in Mr. Mac's faithful hands, made me more settled for the long nights ahead.

I had a case that took most of my attentions away from the threats. That is until the morning of September 30th. I saw that there were two attacks in the early morning hours and, as I half expected, a new threat was sent to me.

**_Twins huh? Doubled your pleasure, so I had to double mine last night. Ha, ha, ha. You still have no idea who I am, Sherlock. You haven't even bothered to butt your nose into my business. Well, tonight I will see mine. She's a ripe one isn't she, my future whore._**

****

**_                                                                     Yours_**

**_                                                                       Jack the Ripper_**

Immediately I sent Mycroft to Oakstaff. I would have gone myself, but it was time I got involved with this case. I had every agent I had on this. Very few clues came in. I needed more data, and I needed to see for myself that my family was safe and sound – even with my brother's assurances that Nona and the children were fine. Knowing that my wife and children were in the line of fire, once again I traveled home.

I walked in to find Trish unconscious on the floor in the arms of Mycroft. Soon after I found myself in the arms of my mother. I didn't feel like questioning it, despite the fact that this should not be happening. All I knew and focused on was this was the best night of my life – except that first night I held Nona in my arms as my wife, and the day we found out about the twins, and the first time I felt them move.

Mycroft asked Nona for mother's engagement ring, and all I could do was smile – after she had healed from birthing our twins, I intended to make Nona pay our agreed bet in full. Then Mother stopped us. "William … Nona."

"Yes, mother."

"What is it, mom?"

Mother looked in my eyes with such a serious look in her own. "Tell her Sherlock. About the messages, and why you sent her and the children here."

That was the last thing I wanted to do. "Mother …"

"Tell her about Jack."

Nona gasped and paled, she seemed to understand that name. "As in Jack the Ripper? Notes? Is that the threatening note you told me about, Sherlock? And there's been more?"

I nodded and sighed.

Nona shook her head. "That is the biggest mystery of all time. No one knows for sure who the Ripper is – not even with all of the technology in my old time. All that is known with some certainty is that the fifth and last murder accounted to Jack happens in November. I can't remember when."

"He intends on taking you and the children. He wants to shame me by killing you like all of the women he has killed thus far. He killed two last night because he found out that we are expecting twins. He threatened to come here tonight."

Mother rubbed my back. "He will not take my daughter or my grandchildren tonight. That is one of the reasons I am here. But, come dawn, I will be at rest finally and our family will be completely healed. What one does to protect family is not wrong, remember that always."

"I will mother."

With a sigh, I returned to the window searching for anything that did not belong below.

***

**_Nona_** –

The next morning I had my big belly wake me up grumbling for food, but I was excited. I knew exactly when my babies would be out of my womb for real rather than in my dreams. Sherlock was up looking out the window. "Morning handsome. Planning how you will make me pay up on our bet?"

"I had that planned out long ago. I'm watching for anything that should not be. Did you enjoy the message and visit that we got last night?" He smirked as he came back to sit on the edge of our bed. With a struggle I pulled myself into his arms. "Of course I did. But the best part was finding out just when our kids will be born. And that our son is going to be his father all over!"

Holmes kissed my lips and for the first time I felt so happy. Twenty days left until I would have my children in my arms. I could hardly believe it. I could also feel that my husband was about to leave me again. "London again, so soon?"

"I have to see what mine and Mycroft's agents have to report. Besides, is there not some things for you and the babies I need to bring with me on the nineteenth?" He smirked, but his eyes told me that he didn't want to leave. I didn't want him to go either. But I knew that there were a lot of things I wanted here for our babies' births. At least I knew when he was coming back. I nodded, but I couldn't look him in the eyes.

He laid me back on the bed and crawled in next to me, kissing my belly where our children grew. To my chuckles, he talked to them both. To anyone who only knew my husband through Watson's stories would never believe that the man speak to my belly was and is indeed the true Sherlock Holmes. "Now, you two listen. This is your father speaking. First I want you both to take good care of your mommy for me. Let her rest. That means I want you both to behave. I love you both as deeply as I love your mother, and I swear to be back before you three know it."

He came up and kissed my lips before snuggling close with his hand on my belly, and the other brushing his fingers on my cheek. Before long I was back asleep, and when I woke he was gone. I know he wanted to make it easier on us both, but I really wished that I had been able to hug him one more time.

The days passed so slowly, I thought that I would go crazy before I'd have him back in my arms. He sent a telegram saying that there was no news, and he planned to keep his promise. I knew that meant he would be here on the nineteenth; he just didn't want to risk the Ripper finding out and take action before then.

Finally the sun rose on the nineteenth (Watson is past rubbing off on me … he's writing through my hand!). I woke up on that morning feeling a little off. I wasn't anymore uncomfortable than normal, but I felt strange. I ate my usual breakfast and was happy when Watson and a morning sickness suffering Mary showed up that late morning.

Mary looked to me for sympathy. "Does this ever end?"

"Yes, just fight it. Before long your body will get used to being pregnant, and you'll be eating like there's no tomorrow!" I chuckled. Mary went to bed. I knew what the poor woman was going through, and fully pitied her.

As Watson gave me a once over, I told him about my feeling. And about how the day before there was this sick pink and reddish gob of goop in my nightgown. "Nona, you are in the early stages of labor. And it feels like both children are in the right positions for the birth. Now you lay here and rest. I'll send Holmes up as soon as he gets here."

Couldn't argue with that. I was excited, worried, slightly achy, and a little tired. Only then did I realize that I was tossing and turning most of the night before. I dozed off and dreamed of holding my babies. Another soft 'squeeze' in my back woke me up just as Sherlock came into the room. "Hey you." I smiled as he knelt at the side of the bed and kissed me several times all over my face. Becoming a father had by then officially turned the great detective into the world's biggest sap!

"How are you feeling?" His face was full of worry and wonder, just like the day we got the news. I couldn't help smiling. Thankfully though that eased him into a smile of his own. Again he kissed my lips softly. I sighed happily. "Better now that you are here. My body's started. It's only pressure and really soft spasms, but I know that it's started."

We went through all of the things he had brought for the kids and me. I ate a little at teatime, but I was so uncomfortable that a good bit of the time Sherlock was helping me walk. Dinner and supper were repeats of teatime, but I was groaning and panting a little more each time. Everyone was certain that I would birth the babies the next day, but I shook my head – Sherlock agreed with me thankfully. Mom said the twenty-first, and we would believe her.

This family was as different from the average Victorian household as my husband and brother-in-law. Normally women were hidden away until after they had healed from the baby's birth, children were sent away and told the baby was found in the garden or some such crap, and only doctors were with the mother at the time of the birth. This was opposite what the Holmes family did and seems to have done in the past. Virgil was asked and excitedly agreed to be there to help any way he could. The entire family helped me, and promised to be there in the room with me through the birth. You wouldn't believe how much of a comfort that was to me.

I barely slept any that night, and Sherlock slept none at all (despite his assurances that he was fine). We walked, he rubbed my back, I panted and groaned, and the rest got ready for the long next day. The birthing table mom had used to bear out my love and his brothers was set up in our room. That was so important to me as well, a kind of continuation of the Holmes line. Thankfully Sherrinford had hidden it. I barely ate most of the day because the pain was growing. It was in my lower back like menstrual cramps, and at times spread down my hips and upper thighs. Come nightfall, it looked like Sherlock and I were right.

About eleven the pain began to intensify and I couldn't help crying. It had spread to my lower stomach along with everywhere it had been before. Sherlock vowed to not leave me once again after I begged him not to leave (I was scared of losing him – okay?), but no one said a word after I grabbed my husband's hand and used his strength to pant out a really bad contraction. All they did was smile.

Near eleven that night, I got up and was slowly going from our bed to the birthing bed when it happened – my water broke all over the floor! The pain hit me harder, and Sherlock had to hold me up as I wept in my pain.

Our entire family was in the room as promised – even Virgil, who brought me some warm honey and salt water to sip on. Dad wiped my face with a cool rag. Sherlock held me up. Trish and Holly held my feet so I would have something to push against.

I felt this need to roll forward, and Watson told me that was my body telling me to push. I bore down three and four times with each urge. Trish excitedly told me that she could see the baby's head! That helped a lot. Especially when I felt that awful burning as the head slowly started to slip out of my body. Believe me when it says ring of fire – **that is the world's oldest and biggest UNDERSTATEMENT ever!**

Sherlock and dad told me how proud of me they were and to keep going. All I wanted to do was sleep at that moment. I had never been so tired in my life. Then I felt a popping sensation. Watson cried out that he had the baby's head! Two more pushes later and out came our son! Michael (for Sir Siger) Thomas (for my dad) John (for Watson) Robert (for Mycroft) Peter (for Sherrinford) Holmes was born at 11:10 the evening of the twenty-first, just like mom told me he would be. Yes, a long-winded name and I turned hypocrite! But we had so many people to honor! Our baby boy weighted in at 6 pounds and 8 ounces! A big boy for a twin, but I was ecstatic. After a quick clean up, Mary (who was feeling better by then) wrapped him in one of the receiving blankets and laid that sweet little boy in my arms.

Michael was so tiny and so perfect! I forgot how much pain I had suffered with his first little yawn. I looked up and saw happily that Sherrinford had recorded everything in Michael's baby book! Everyone laughed when Virgil pointed out, "He came out first to make sure that things were safe for his little sister."

Sherlock and I were cooing over our son when Watson went to clean up a little so he could fill out Michael's birth certificate, when it happened! My second water broke! The pain came back and I handed over my son to his proud grandfather. Thankfully I wasn't in labor for very long. Four pushes later little Violet (for Lady Violet) Kimberly (for my mom) Mary (for Mary Watson) Patricia (Trish of course) Holly (obviously for my sister-in-law) Holmes came out screaming; another long-winded name – big deal. She was 6 pounds and 3 ounces! Mary cleaned and wrapped her in a receiving blanket before resting my daughter in my arms. I felt as if I could never be so happy again in my life! I was a mother of two beautiful babies.

I did tear a little with both babies. After the two afterbirths came out, Watson gave me four little stitches and helped clean me up. After that Holmes set me in our bed – with me holding our daughter through all of it. Sherrinford again recorded the information. 11:19 in the evening! Mycroft had gotten me some extra pillows to relax against.

Dad handed over Michael to Sherlock, who at first wasn't sure about holding his first-born son. Once Michael was cuddled in his arms, the little angel in his arms entranced my husband completely. Being a father came to him naturally, and Sherlock looked so young for the touch of the little boy in his arms. I fell in love with my husband all over again.

After cooing over the pair a little while, the family left us all to rest. Sherlock gave me one of the breastfeeding pillows and laid our son on one side before picking up our daughter. He stood there rocking Violet just slightly as he smiled on her. They were both as he and I dreamt they would be.

A couple of weeks later I went to the church for a traditional thanksgiving after childbirth. I had never been so thankful for anything in my life. I was alive, I had two beautiful children, and none of us were damaged for it. That is a miracle in the nineteenth century. The same sweet man who married Sherlock and I was the pastor who performed the service. I could tell this was a wonderful service for him. Then he asked about the children's baptisms. I told him we were afraid because they and I were under death threats. He swore no one would hear of it – just like mine and Sherlock's wedding. I nodded, and then began to seriously who would be the kids' godparents.

The next morning, Sherlock and I fed the kids and settled them in the crib in our room we laid down on our still unmade bed and talked. "Sherlock, I just don't know how we can only pick four people to be the kids' godparents."

"Well, I know that there are minimum numbers, but I never heard of there being maximum numbers. Who were you thinking of asking?" He pulled me close and obviously liked how close we could get now that my belly was barely in our way.

I snuggled close and smiled. "Well obviously Watson and Mary."

"Obviously. I was thinking of asking Sherrinford and Holly as well." He yawned. The kids still had yet to get their days and nights straightened out. Three am, five am, six-fifteen to six-thirty am, and then they'd sleep until lunch. We were exhausted thanks to our loud alarm clocks.

I smiled at that. To have our babies grow up in this place if anything happened to us. I rested my head close to his. "Could we also ask Mycroft and Trish? And dad too."

He smiled at me before sitting up and covering me with the blankets, knowing we both needed to sleep. "I'd have it no other way love." He kissed my nose and wrapped his arms around me as we both dosed off.

Just before lunch came our first little alarm clock. Violet obviously had a messy diaper (I wished we had disposables!!!!!!!). And then Michael heard her cries and woke up with his own wails. He was hungry and dirty. In so short of time I knew what most of their cries were. Even Sherlock was still having a hard time understanding our babies at that time. Together we cleaned them up, I set on the bed with the feeding pillow, and he set them on either side. I pulled out my utters and the pair latched on tight – nothing would stop either until they were full.

Sherlock smirked and snickered, "lucky babes."

"Once they weaned themselves, and I've dried up, you can play with them all you want." I smiled.

He had this stare in his eyes I first saw on our wedding night – I knew what was in his head. "Don't I get a taste?"

I chuckled. "You want to taste the babies' food?" When he didn't respond I wondered if he was kidding, but his eyes said otherwise. "Once I'm healed up enough to play, we'll see."

He grinned brighter and got this twinkled in his eyes. "Can't wait." And then he kissed me.

We took them downstairs, once they ate to their full, for our lunch and announcement. Watson and Mary were visiting, and smiled at us as we brought the babies with us. Violet cooed and giggled, bringing out smiles on all. Everyone had already started, so Trish came and took Violet so that I could eat. Dad took Michael to give Sherlock that same grace. Once we were seated and our meals brought to us, Sherlock nodded – meaning I was to open my mouth first. Nice husband I've got! "We have an announcement everyone."

I smirked at him as Sherlock shot me a look. He was going to help me on this. "Nona and I have decided on the twins' godparents. Instead of four we have chosen seven. Obviously we ask you and Mary, Watson. You were the first person I ever trusted completely outside of my family."

I took over, because I had to say it. "We also ask you and Mycroft, Trish. You saved my life. And despite being a pain in the rear butterball, I know that things would have been very different if you hadn't been involved with Sherlock and I, Mycroft."

Sherlock smiled at his eldest brother. "We ask you and Holly, Sherrinford. The two of you have done so much for Nona and I. And finally we ask you Father. Because I couldn't think of anyone, outside of Nona and myself, more devoted to these two."

Everyone was in shock and silent for a few minutes. I just had to say it! "Ah, peace and quiet at lunch. But, will it last – doubtful."

Sherlock chuckled. And then everyone found his or her voices. All agreed to our request. That following Wednesday was set as the twins' christening.

Violet wore the dress I wore at my christening, while Michael wore his father's. I slid the headband off of the card with its poem and then slipped it on my daughter's head. I could hardly believe this was all real. I was a mother of two beautiful babies.

The Pastor had a twinkle in his eyes and looked years younger since the first time Sherlock and I visited him about our wedding. After the service, he was looking expectantly at Mycroft. I had to fight off my laughter. Oh, the last couple in this family had better get hitched and fast!

* * *

Well there is the revised version of 18. I hope this clears up misunderstandings and is better in character for everyone. I have written it time and again – in private Sherlock Holmes is a **VERY** different man.


	7. In which the World’s Most Famous Murder ...

Okay this is the last chapter to get revised. 

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING:** The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **EXTREMELY HIGH** levels of **BST** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned. 

**DISCLAIMER:** Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the **US** they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All **BST** characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission. ^_^

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BST Chapter 19

In which the World's Most Famous Murder Mystery is Solved Yet Remains a Mystery

By Bonnie S.

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**_Nona_** –

November ninth and we were finally home again! I couldn't tell everyone how grateful I was for his or her protection over the babies and me – especially from Mac and Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson, Grace, and Billy were right outside the door when Sherlock and I pulled up. I couldn't lose the smile these angels put on my tired face. And Sherlock was his public self. That meant he held Michael close, but was stone faced as ever. His eyes and body language was what told me that he was as happy as I was at bringing our angels home for the first time. That was how he acted. In private or in front of our family he was a very different man than he was in public and in Watson's stories. If one only knew my husband from the stories, meeting him for the first time would think of him as out of character and sappy to say the least. But a person is not always what character one sets in mind as real. Oh, he could be all Watson wrote and worse at times – however, most of the time he was a loving father, uncle, brother, friend, employer, tenant, husband, and lover.

I read what William S. Baring-Gould wrote from Watson's recounts of that horrible weekend not very long after the fact. Of course all mentions of myself and the babies were erased, so that the kids could grow up living normal lives and I wouldn't know of my time travel before I walked through that overly long alleyway. And so certain other facts were removed and the story patched to erase those holes. At least here the world will, at last, know the truth.

After getting out of the cab that evening, Sherlock gave our son over to Mrs. Hudson who turned instantly into a doting grandmother. She carried him inside while my husband (how I still loved to say that!) collected our darling daughter and gave Violet to Grace, who cooed over her like an aunt and followed Mrs. Hudson in to guard the children from the elements – as a thick fog was coming in. Then he turned around and helped me out of the cab and paid the cabbie. Grabbing our bags, he and Billy guarded me as we all went into the house. It felt so good to be home again at last.

Turned out that while we were getting used to being parents, our Baker Street family were getting ready for our new arrivals. The attic was cleaned and aired out and turned into a nursery! Sherlock and I chuckled hard at that. It had been a subject that had come up in discussion while we packed for home, and was solved before we got back.

"Well, at least now I can help more. No one can argue on that." I smiled as I got my hat and coat off. I hated not doing anything around the house.

Holmes put on one of his smirks as Mrs. Hudson wore her stern no nonsense expression. "Mrs. Holmes, you still need to rest. Having two babies to take care of on top of the business is more than enough for a Lady. Now, have the two of you eaten?"

I could see that Holmes was fighting back a chuckle. Oh, he would pay! And I could tell in his voice that he saw that on my face. "Not since we left North Riding."

"Then I believe a late supper is in order." Mrs. Hudson's voice told me that there was nothing we could have said to argue her off. She laid Michael into my arms with such a proud smile on her face. "The sitting room has been aired out and cleaned and the fire is already going. I'll have tea sent up shortly." And with that she returned to the kitchen. Grace visibly regretted having to give up Violet to Sherlock, and I saw that the four of us had a family we never saw before – as I saw in his eyes that my husband too realized that hidden truth.

Billy ran up the stairs ahead of us and opened the door. That old sitting room had never looked as beautiful and warm and bright to me than at that moment– I knew that I was home. In my arms, my son yawned and snuggled into my embrace and looked up at me with a pair of soft dove gray satisfied eyes that were so similar to his father's. He was home as well, and his face told me this would always be his home. Glancing over at Sherlock when he and Violet came in the room, she stretched and cooed as if celebrating her homecoming. Sherlock had a proud look on his face that in some ways mirrored our son's. Billy went to help with supper, leaving Sherlock, the kids, and me on our own.

Instead of his chair, Sherlock sat beside me on the sofa. "Happy to be finally home, Mrs. Holmes?"

I chuckled and smiled at the joy in his voice. Obviously my husband was very happy to have our kids and me home. "Very. I see that you are not tired of using my married name yet."

He settled Violet into his right arm and shifted closer to me. Before leaving a kiss on my lips, his voice went warm and thick like honey and his face told me his honest feelings for me. "I will never tire of saying it, because that night you legally became my wife was one of the best nights of my life."

"Sap." I chuckled with him until our lips met.

We kissed deeply until Michael fussed and Violet cooed. This parenting thing was going to take time for us both to get used to. And then there was a knock at the door. In came our friend, former fellow lodger, and now family doctor – John H. Watson. "Well, looks like the four of you are settling in well."

"Watson! And how is Mary now?" Sherlock's face lit up at the sight of his biographer. Like he said that morning we announced the kids' godparents, this man was the first person my husband completely trusted.

Watson grinned and chuckled as her adoring father laid Violet into his arms. "Much better thankfully. She's stopped having such severe morning sickness."

"Already?!" I gasped in shock – I remembered how long I suffered through my bouts of war against my stomach. "That was fast!"

"Nona, you were carrying two children. One baby is a very different experience. As you know from reading those books your mother left for you." Watson admonished me as he sat in his usual chair across from Sherlock, who sat in his cane-backed chair by the hearth. "Speaking of, how have you and these little angels been?"

I groaned with a weary smile on my face. "They have yet to sleep through the night. But they seem to know that they are certainly home now. You should have seen how they reacted when we set foot in this room, Watson! It was precious!" I froze for a split second. No, I couldn't believe that I just said that word – and, given the looks of my doctor and husband, not only did they too disbelieved it but knew my shock as well. All three of us broke into laughter.

Ever one step ahead of us, Mrs. Hudson brought up three services to set the table for our late supper. Sherlock got this pleased look on his face as he watched her. "Ah, Mrs. Hudson. You are as perceptive as ever I see!"

"Living in this household, one can't help but learn such. After all, I have to keep up with you and Mrs. Holmes, and now two little ones too." She chuckled as she retreated from the room.

Watson joined us in a hearty chuckle at that. I looked over and smiled. "Well, given that it has been impressed upon me that I have made a huge breech of etiquette, would you join us in a late supper, Watson?"

To emphasize my invitation, Violet cooed and shifted in her godfather's arms to get his attention – to mine and her father's chuckles. Watson was wearing a grin I swear couldn't be hammered off his face! "Seeing as two very lovely ladies have asked, and Mary is visiting Mrs. Forrester this evening, who am I to say no?"

"Capital! Just like old times!" Sherlock cried out in joy, echoed by our son in my arms. I had to say it! "Looks like it is going to be a case of like father like son with Michael as mom predicted. I can just see him running out without eating to chase down some criminal or another."

Sherlock grinned like the day he first felt our children move in my belly as he took Michael from my arms. "And that would be bad how?"

"Michael had better at the least have my eating habits!" I couldn't keep the grin from my face.

Watson shook his head as he accepted Michael from Sherlock. "Nona, there are times when you are as bad as Holmes during a case. Besides, I see this little girl and little boy will be as brave and stubborn and willful and smart and cunning as both of their parents combined. God, help their parents when the terrible twos come knocking."

Sherlock and I both looked frightened mockingly at one another. I forced a shutter, which made Watson and Sherlock both chuckle. "I am locking the door the day that knock comes!"

Their chuckles turned into laughter when a ring at the door downstairs made me jump. I kissed Sherlock and glared at him in challenge. "When the two in Watson's arms are asleep tonight, you will be paying – in triple!"

As I went to the door, Sherlock chuckled at Watson (making the other laugh), "Watson, please stay and help me keep these two awake! For the love of all that is Holy, protect me from Mrs. Holmes!"

I sat my hand on the doorknob, turned, and smirked one of Sherlock's favorite grins – which had the effect of silencing both men in a heartbeat. "Now that triple itself has been tripled. Care for more punishment later, Sherlock?"

Watson chuckled heartily at that, Sherlock actually got a scared look on his face as he sat in his chair – that is until I gave him one of the grins I shot at him on our honeymoon. That told him he'd enjoy his punishment thoroughly, and my sweet husband got a hungry look in his eyes as he too grinned back at me. I opened the door as Mrs. Hudson seemingly had just raised her hand to knock; she smiled and shook her head as if she had been half expecting it. "Inspector Jones, Mrs. Holmes."

When I saw my husband nod, I smiled back at our landlady. "Send him up, Mrs. Hudson. Oh, and could you and Grace keep an eye on the kids and hold off supper until Jones leaves?"

"Yes, Nona-bird. I'll get Grace now." She smiled as she returned back downstairs. I could see that she loved using her pet name for me, and I missed it to be honest. I shut the door back and went to pick up Violet. If I had only known what would later happen, I might not have let go of her – ever.

Grace and Mrs. Hudson came in ahead of Jones, both smiling. I laid my little girl in Grace's arms as Watson relinquished Michael to Mrs. Hudson's care. Jones gave a strange smile over the twins. "So, I lost in the betting pool. I said two boys. What are the angels' names?"

"Michael and Violet – for my parents." Holmes droned out. I noticed that he too saw the strange look on Jones' face, as had Watson. Looked like all three of us were happy that the twins were then on the way downstairs to be guarded by Grace, Billy, and Mrs. Hudson.

"Their parents made over I see. It is good that the threat on the three of you came to naught, Mrs. Holmes." He gave me the same strange look, and it was hard to keep my shutters still. "Thank you Inspector Jones. Looks like Sherlock isn't the only one who enjoys using my married name. Cigar and a drink, since the kids aren't in the room?"

"Just a cigar, Mrs. Holmes. And we at the Yard have been waiting for the day we could say that to your face rather than out of your and Mr. Holmes' ears." He chuckled a warmed icy chortle. I felt as if my life were suddenly on the line.

I offered the cigar box and he lit one up. Watson took one as well, while Sherlock lit his pipe. I walked over to stand at the window near Sherlock for the feeling of safety and to keep a safe distance between the inspector and myself. "It's getting foggy out, so that means you have a big case you're working on. May I suspect it has something with Whitehall? Or am I wrong?"

I knew that I was wrong, but something about his manner had me on edge. Jones shook his head. "You're getting to be like your husband, Mrs. Holmes. That is except it is in Whitechapel. It has caused a reign of terror over the whole East End of London. I have been instructed to get your help Mr. Holmes. They'd would have asked for your help too, Mrs. Holmes – but with the children only recently being born, the bosses knew that it would be better to let you finish recovering from their births."

"Ah yes, I understand." I was insulted, but I knew that his superiors were right this time. I was in no shape to work on a case right now. Besides, it sounded as if the jerk didn't want my husband's help in the first place – much less mine.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, seemingly more at ease as I sat at his chemical table rather than beside Jones on the sofa. "You were instructed?"

"By Sir Melville himself, Mr. Holmes. None of your former cases are as fantastic as this case." Jones took a long drag off of his cigar. I was confused. "Um, who is Sir Melville?"

"A high official at Scotland Yard, my dear." Holmes answered me without removing his eyes from Jones. "Your are referring to the Ripper killings, Jones? They have hardly escaped my attention. But understandably these have been busy weeks for Nona, Watson, and myself."

When he nodded, he looked dead at Holmes in challenge. "Of course with the threats to your wife and children, I'm sure the bosses will understand if you refuse them."

"I thought you were out of the city when all of that happened?" I asked. Mac had visited before Sherlock and I brought the children home, and he mentioned that Jones hadn't helped with the watches because he was in Manchester. 

Jones smiled at me softly; I began to think that maybe I was just on edge about those notes. Sherlock's opinion obviously didn't change – even after Jones explained. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there to help Mrs. Holmes, Mr. Holmes. I was summoned or else I would have been the first to volunteer. Count on that."

If anything Sherlock stiffened just slightly. "So, six drabs have been outraged according to the papers."

"Seven drabs, Mr. Holmes." Jones corrected my husband. "And the seventh is the worse of the lot!"

Sherlock had not expected that, but somehow I did. I always remembered there only being five, so where did the other two come from? My husband sat forward to fix Jones' eye on him – what had Jones been looking at? "A seventh Ripper killing? When did it happen, this morning?"

"Yes, very early. At number twenty-six Dorset Street." Jones sat back at ease – obviously he had been worried that his superiors would bite his head off if he couldn't get Sherlock's help. My husband's body language told me that he was going to that area of East London in his mind. His memory of the byways of our city was still better than mine, but I remembered helping a little girl there once while Sherlock was on the Sumatra case, so I could see that street clearly in the back of my mind.

Number twenty-six … there was something about it … why was that address familiar? Sherlock murmured with his eyes still closed. "If memory serves me well, the Ripper's third victim was found only a few hundred yards from there – a Mary Ann Nichols."

"Correct, Mr. Holmes." Jones nodded, but there was something else about it. I knew that address.  Jones went on. "But there is a difference in this case, Mr. Holmes. The murder took place inside for the first time."

"Then how can you be so sure that it is the same murder? His MO has always been outdoors where he could be caught, so why link this death to the Ripper?" I asked. Jones puffed on his cigar again and focused on me. "The characteristics of the mutilations are exactly the same, Mrs. Holmes."

Sherlock sighed, apparently he hadn't wanted a case this soon after bringing the children and me home. "Give me all of the facts."

Jones sat back and took an easy breath. I was just edgy and owed him an apology, at least mentally. "Care for that whiskey and soda now, Jones?"

He nodded. "Well half a glass. This case has been nothing but a worry and trying of my patience as of late, Mrs. Holmes."

I made up the drink as he went over the case. "Like all the others, Mary Jane Kelly …" I gasped as I nearly dropped the glass. It worried my Sherlock. "Nona, what's wrong?"

Watson nearly came over to me, fearing it was a hidden infection or something else that went wrong with the pregnancy. I waved him to sit down as I forced myself to calm down. "I met her before. When I was in disguise once in that area, I left a little girl in her care. Oh, God she was such a sweet woman. I knew the address sounded familiar, but I thought that she lived in Miller's Court?"

"That is where the entrance to her room is, up that narrow court. I'm afraid that she hasn't been a very good woman as of late. Her husband and she had a fight that came to blows, he left and she had reduced herself to walking the streets for a living." Jones looked as if he sympathized with me.

I couldn't believe it! I didn't tell them how well I knew Mrs. Kelly. I began taking up a woman's disguise that I believed my husband still didn't know about. My name was Heather McDougal, and Mrs. Kelly became my best friend in London – even if all she knew about me was only an act. Seeing a woman's name in a history book and reading about how brutally she died is nothing compared to actually knowing her. Knowing how sweet she was, how kind, how talented. I couldn't help but grieve for Mary Jane.

I reached Jones his drink and sunk into the chair by Holmes' chemical table. I knew that, even if my husband didn't know it, I was going to take down the Ripper! Jones went on. "The room is known as number thirteen Miller's court. Nearly all of the houses on this street are common lodging houses, and in fact the one opposite of where the murder took place has accommodations for some three hundred men."

That had been one reason I knew Sherlock wouldn't like the fact that I had my secondary disguise – one night I was attacked as I left Mary Jane's house by a couple of men from that house (where I was trying to save her from her abusive husband). I was lucky to be rescued and I ran home fast as I could. Luckily Holmes didn't get home until I was able to wash, change, and hide my secondary costume. If he ever found out about that night, I am sure that he would never trust me again.

"It was fully occupied last night?" Sherlock asked, his voice dull with concentration and focus.

Jones nodded. "After eight last night no one at number twenty-six Dorset Street or living in Miller's Court saw any thing of Mary Jane Kelly. However, she was seen in Commercial Road just before the closing of the public house there. Those who saw her said that she was worse for drink.

"She was thirty-five shillings behind in her rent." When Jones said that, I was in shock. Why hadn't Mary Jane asked me for help? I told her to send a message with certain members of the Irregulars who lived in that area – that they'd always be able to find me. I told her that if she ever needed me to contact me. And now she was gone! What could I have done to prevent this? I didn't even know that she was destined to be the last Ripper victim – it wasn't until Jones said her name that that horrid picture came back to my mind! I wondered how long the poor woman suffered before she finally died.

Jones sighed and sat his glass on the table. "At a quarter to eleven o'clock this Friday morning, the owner of the house – a M'Carthy – said to a man who works for him, named John Bowyer, to get some rent money from number thirteen. Bowyer did as he was told.

"First he knocked on the door, but got no answer. Then he tried the door handle to find it locked. He looked through the keyhole and saw that the key was missing. There were two large windows on the left-hand side of the room that faces Miller's Court. During his quarrel with the dead woman, Mr. Kelly broke a pane of glass. Bowyer stuck his hand through the broken window and pulled the muslin curtain aside.

"A shocking sight met his eyes." I shuttered at Jones' sigh. I just couldn't help it. I saw the image clear in my mind and it made it hard to focus on the moment. Jones looked worriedly at me, but continued on. Eventually he buried his head in his hands. Then he said, "and to think, Mr. Holmes, that only ten hours before she had been so young, so rosy, so happy that she was singing …"

Sherlock got up and rubbed my back as he went to the window and held his hands behind his back. I heard the babies fussing downstairs just as Jones got that strange look in his eyes again, frightening me to the core. "I had better see what is wrong with them. Catch me up later, Sherlock."

"If I don't Watson will."

I fought the urge to break down on my way down the stairs. I had to focus on my children. Mary Jane was out of pain and grief at last – and I would avenge her somehow. Once downstairs I saw that poor Mrs. Hudson and Grace just couldn't settle my twin angels down. "Now, now, now. I thought you two knew to behave while mommy and daddy are working?"

"We're sorry, Mrs. Holmes." Grace sighed as she bounced Violet gently. I smiled at her and raised an eyebrow as I took Michael from Mrs. Hudson. "I thought that I asked you to call me Nona when it is only all of us?"

Instantly Michael settled down, and I suppose that hearing him calming down made Violet too calm down. Mrs. Hudson sighed. "Thank you much Nona-bird. They must have felt their momma was upset. I know all my babies did the same with me."

"Billy did that with me too. But, I have never seen babies get this upset." Grace added.

I wiped my son's tears away and smiled on him. If only he could tell us why he was so upset. "They probably still have a connection to me. Nine months in my belly and all the cuddling Sherlock and I have done with them had to linked us somehow. But, never tell that to Sherlock."

Everyone chuckled at that. My breasts were sore from all of their crying. I looked over at Grace who (along with Mrs. Hudson) had a knowing smile on her face. "How about we take these two upstairs?"

Grace nodded and followed me to mine and Sherlock's room. I tried to ignore the talk in the sitting room, but it was hard. Thankfully, I supposed that Sherlock heard us and dropped the voice level in the room. I took off my blouse, grabbed a feeding pillow, set on the bed, and set the kids to feeding. The feel of them eating away and clutching my breasts made me feel better. For the one life that ended two began theirs. I hoped that Mary Jane would watch over her babies, and maybe my own as well. Grace left the babies and I to help with supper.

I remember distinctively over hearing my husband complimenting our friend in a way that Watson never did write into his stories (a shame, for Sherlock indeed held him in very high esteem). "I never get your limits, Watson. There are unexplained possibilities about you."

Of course Sherlock took up the case, and Jones gave him carte blanche. A few moments later, Jones left. Sherlock checked on the babies and me, wearing a weary look of worry on his face. "We're fine, love. The kids simply felt that I was upset, and I suspect that they were a little hungry."

A grin fluttered on his face as he sat beside me and watched our kids feeding. "These murders were what you talked about when you brought up the idea of a man just waking up and deciding to kill." It was a statement of fact rather than a question.

"I can't tell you anything about it really, love. I didn't even remember that poor woman was going to be the Ripper's victim. When I shuttered before I went to the kids, I could clearly see the picture of her dead body. Oh, and thank you for dropping the conversation volume."

He nodded and looked down on our children. When he looked up in my eyes, I swear he looked as if he was watching me vanish before him. "Nona, I wonder if bringing you three home so soon was wise."

"Jack would have stolen us from Oakstaff. I'd rather be here in London, where I know the area. In case of anything …" At that he kissed me deep. I could feel that he was worried about what lay before us.

Sherlock looked deep into my eyes, he was prepared to end this in any possible way. "Nona, if …"

I silenced his lips with my fingers. "You have more cases ahead of us, Sherlock. Focus on ending his madness."

That brought out those embers of hard gray fire. My Sherlock was ready to fight. His smirk told me that was all he had needed me to say. We had supper with Watson, and spoke no more of the case that night. It felt good to be home, and to have two beautiful angels to raise. It wasn't until late that we said goodnight to Watson, and finally got the twins to sleep. Because of the threats still against us, and their being so young, Sherlock and I kept the twins in our room at night – plus it was easier to feed them. We changed and slid into bed. But, if Sherlock thought that I had been teasing before, he was about to get a severe reality check. It wasn't much more than touching because I was still healing, but he got a slight sense of what he was going to have coming to him once I was fully healed. After all, Trish did find more than two birth certificates connected to our names.

The next morning Watson joined us for breakfast early – as he already had an idea of the twins' sleeping schedule. A long hour passed afterward where the men read their papers and I played with the babies. A lot of Watson's things were still at Baker Street – guess he would always see this place as home – so when he came back after leaving for about an hour, the telegram conversation made perfect sense to me (though even I didn't see Sherlock's reasoning until it was laid out before us). Once her daddy was finished with his train of deduction, little Violet sneezed. I couldn't pass it up "Well, looks like a certain little girl thinks that it is simple and superfluous as well."

Both men chuckled heartily. More so when Michael yawned the biggest yawn of his young life! Sherlock smiled down on the pair we had created. "And a little boy is going to be hard to impress it seems. Well, perhaps I will do a better job of it after tonight."

I was trying to be brave for him, but the idea of my husband and only love going up against Jack the Ripper scared me worse than his upcoming near miss with Moriarty. "Tonight then?"

Seeing my worry, Watson decided to sooth me and to ease his own nerves. "I'm ready to accompany you, Holmes."

Sherlock propelled himself from his chair startling he twins and me. He glanced worriedly at the three of us. "Forgive me angels, but it is most essential that you do not come with me Watson."

"Sherlock, Jack might get the upper hand! I'd feel better knowing that you have back up. And there is no one **we** trust more than Watson." I fought off the urge to scream so the kids wouldn't be anymore upset than they already were. Some days my husband could be such a thickheaded pain in my backside!

He sat beside me and rubbed my back, "Nona, you are right about Watson being the only other man I trust with the three people I cannot live without, I also have you and the twins to worry about. This Jack has threatened the three of you. I cannot work knowing that my family could be in danger. Our babies are nearly four weeks old, and you still need time to finish healing. Please stay here and watch over my family for me Watson."

I looked up at my husband, and felt my core shake. Something was going to happen – and it scared me to the depth of my soul. "Are you sure?"

"I would have it no other way."

Watson nodded to us, "very well, I will on no account follow you Holmes."

"I hold you to your word," Sherlock just gave a sigh of relief. He smiled with that worry taken from him, and took up his violin. "Now what shall we use to entertain these two angels on so foggy a morning?"

We spent the day keeping our minds off of the night's coming activities. Watson left to explain to Mary what was happening. Mrs. Hudson and Grace took charge of the children without being asked. They obviously predicted or overheard the evening's plans. That left the afternoon for Sherlock and myself. We laid in our bed cuddling for a long time. I had to get my secret out. "Sherlock?"

"Yes, Mrs. Holmes." He sighed as he tightened his hold on me slightly. I think I would miss that the most, how proud he was to state clearly who I now was.

I swallowed and decided this was too important to hide it forever. "I knew Mary Jane better than I stated before, love. I …"

He got off the bed and went to the closets. I had lost him! "I have a secret disguise."

"A Miss Heather McDougal from America I believe." I was shocked! How did he now? And how did he feel about it? And then a voice I knew from the night I was attacked spoke up. "Get yaselve on 'ome, girlie. 'Fer yer man gets ya good!"

"You saved me? But, how did you know that it was me?" I gasped. He gently rubbed my right ear as he sat back on the bed and pulled me back into his arms. "This time you had it hidden well, I was just being chivalrous to a woman in need at first. But during the scuffle it was uncovered and I saw how wonderful an actress that my wife is. I still want you to remain here. If there is even a slight chance that this Jack knows your latest disguise, you will be his first target."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and inhaled his scent. Sherlock was right, and I just had to trust that mom would keep watch over my husband when he and I were apart this night. All he did was rest his cheek on my head, knowing what I was feeling and how much I needed this time with him. "Agreed. I will stay here unless I get word that you need me."

"One less worry I will have on my mind." And with that the rest of our time was spent in silence. I dosed off, only to feel my husband kiss my cheek gently as he left in the guise of a drab. I smirked at this new costume of his. After all, it was very similar to my female disguise. Husbands can be so cheeky when they got in a mood for it. And mine was then and still can be the all mighty High King of cheeky! I chuckled for the first time with little fear in my heart – an act I was certain had been Sherlock's main goal as he left to face down Jack the Ripper. Remembering that, I was once again frightened and depressed. But, I had two babies and a friend I knew had to be waiting on me in the sitting room. So I got up and saw that my assumption had been correct – Watson was lying on the floor playing with his godchildren, keeping them from knowing how much danger was surrounding our family that night.

"I thought that I was caring for only two children. How are they behaving, Watson?" I smiled at the sight of a grown man on the floor doting over my babies.

Thankfully he had the sense to blush. "Both are healthy and very adorable."

I chuckled. "Thank goodness I got a medical opinion on the latter of those two. How about I play a lullaby for them?"

I took up Sherlock's Stradivarius, as I often did when he was gone to bring me some comfort, and began playing a soft tune. In no time at all, both angels were fast asleep. Watson helped me settle the pair in their cribs in mine and Sherlock's room. We left that door and the sitting room door open. At first I thought that the two of us were going to have a quiet evening of talk until Sherlock came home, but then came the telegram.

"Nona-bird, this just came for you." Mrs. Hudson handed it over to me. I scanned it, and knew it was a set up from Jack. But if my husband were in as deep of trouble as I feared, then I would just brush it off as the telegram I was waiting for.

NEED SUPPORT STOP MEET WATSON AND JONES AT PUB MJ WAS LAST SEEN STOP BABIES WILL BE FINE STOP I LOVE YOU STOP HOLMES

I went in and quietly changed. I growled as I glanced at the telegram one more time. "You really blew it, Jack."

Watson saw my plans instantly. "Nona …"

I didn't let him finish. I tossed the telegram at him and rushed to the stairs, so the babies wouldn't wake up. "Mrs. Hudson, we have a problem!"

"On my way up."

I returned to the sitting room to a pale and confused Watson. "This doesn't sound like Holmes at all."

"That's because it is from Jack. Sherlock stopped using his surname in telegrams sent to me the day I stopped addressing him by his surname. He would never be so off handing with the idea of the kids' safety like that. And, most of all, he has never written the words 'I love you' to me by telegram ever! If Jack knows that Sherlock's not here, then he also knows what disguise Sherlock is using! That means he's in worse trouble than he thought. And that also means I'm going after Jack. You can follow me if you want, and you won't be lying to Sherlock. After all, Mrs. Hudson can take care of the twins and not fear Jack because he'll be after me. And you following me is still honoring your word to take care of me and the babies."

"Very sneaky Nona." Watson chuckled. I just couldn't resist. "Very kind of ya, duckie. I'll see ya 'round sometime." And threw him a wink, as he broke down into tears of laughter. I explained the situation to Mrs. Hudson, who agreed to stay in the bedroom with the babies until one of us three came back, and then I left.

Walking out the door, I felt like a hunted prey. Remembering that my husband needed me, I took a deep breath and started off for Commercial Road. Not far into my walk I knew I was being tailed. I twisted and doubled back to get behind my pursuer, thankful to find that it was good old Watson. I chuckled as he looked about in an attempt to find me. I walked around him just as he was turning and successfully got him to bump into me. "Watch where ya going, duckie."

I took a few seconds, but Watson did pick up on my duckie and nodded. As he continued on his way, I slipped too far ahead and lost him. I was about to curse my luck, when I turned and found myself facing Jones. He forcefully bundled me into a cab, and chuckled as we drove off. "Nice twist on Watson, Mrs. Holmes."

"How did you see me through this get up?" I was really getting nervous. Jones had that look back in his eyes. He moved from in front of me to beside me, and coolly whispered in my ear. "I knew you couldn't resist a note from your loving husband. Fooled you, bird."

"Jack?" It hit me hard. I had played into his trap! Out of the corner of my eye there was a rag coming out of Jones' pocket. Too obvious what that was. I spun around to take the seat he had just vacated. Jones was about to see that it wasn't an easy task to take down the sharp wife of the great detective. "Why Jones?"

"Why not? Those whores gave it to me. So, they will all pay for it. That last one was the best of all." He chuckled with a darker look glazing his eyes. "And now he'll be showed up as the Ripper, I'll be the hero, and I'll have you … at least until you become your husband's last victim."

Oh, that was sick. "Sherlock thinks I am home. He won't be coming to my rescue. Why Mary Jane? Why did you leave her like that?"

"She looked like you!"

I was shaking inside for that. "What is it with me?"

He got this soft look in his eyes and brushed his fingers down my cheek. "You were so taken by that fake that you never saw how much I wanted you. I'd see you when the three of would come to the Yard for some reason or another … or when I'd follow you around. I knew about your male disguise long before he did.

"When you lost your memories I thought that I finally had a real chance to get you heart and hand away from that charlatan. I knew that you would love me if you had only given me a chance." Then his eyes went cold and hard again. "But then I walked out into the hall when Watson was looking out the window and saw you and he grinding your lips together. You are a stupid blind woman … you are a whore!"

Again he went to press the rag against my face but I dodged him. Something rolled on the seat and I grabbed it. Before he wretched it from my hand, I saw the label. "Arsenic? Why are you taking poison?"

"Why would you care? You never cared before!" I saw there were tears in his eyes. God, he really had some kind of feelings for me.

I had to talk him down … somehow I had to bring back the Jekyll out of the Hyde I was facing. "I never knew and you never said anything. I can't read minds, Jones. Who knows what could have happened if you had only came to see me rather than Sherlock?"

Tears fell from his eyes and the rag clenching hand settled down on his knee. "I was afraid."

"Please tell me why you are using the arsenic. Please, I do worry about my friends … and you have been a very dear friend."

He sighed hard and seemed to break down. "Your wedding night I found me a whore who looked just like you. She even let me use your name. I had the wedding night with you I wanted so badly. But she … she … she gave it to me."

I was stunned. Jones wanted me that bad? In my time all he would have to do was talk to me – but of course the rules in my age would be very different from the time I was now living in. "What did she give you?"

"Syphilis! You tramp! You gave it to me! Now I have to hide the poison so I can cure it! Lestrade nearly stumbled onto it! I would have lost my job! And it is all your fault!" He roared and pounced at me, but this time he got a hold of me! "Now I'll have my honeymoon! You are mine now! And I'll get our babies away from the whore monger who took them and you away from me, don't worry my **_love_**."

"No … Jones, please! You say you love me, but you're hurting me! Please Jones … please, it hurts!" I cried out, trying my best to be a typical lady of the age.

Wouldn't just be my luck that he didn't fall for it. So the Yard had one inspector that had a brain – too bad it was now full of holes like a block of swiss cheese from the combination of disease and poison. "You think I'm a fool. You are no woman of this world, **_Mrs. Holmes_**. No Victorian woman would dress as a man or half of the other un-ladylike activities you have. Say playing in a seedy bar for instance? Or gallivanting with whores for another?"

I twisted to try and get free of his grasp and didn't notice the rag coming up until it was too late – whiff of something sweet and I was out of it in moments. I slowly came too in some ratty room on a worn and filthy bed. My heart dropped when I saw Jones grinning at me. Holmes really had no idea where I was, and I doubt that Watson had the first clue of where to look for me. All I could do was keep Jones busy until one or the other arrived, or some other saving grace came through. But, what could I talk about?

"I knew the note was a fake, Jones. You'll never get to my babies."

He smirked as he swayed his way to the bed. I tried to roll away, but only then realized that I was tied down to it! Jones forced me on my back and used his body to pin my own down. I didn't think that any of this was going to happen! I was supposed to be helping my husband! Now I was being assaulted! "What gave it away my dear bride?"

Bride? When would the guy wise up to the fact that my husband would kill him just for what he had done so far? "First, Sherlock doesn't sign telegrams to me with his surname."

"Not even when he's working and wants his wife there?"

"Not even … especially after my children and I have been threatened." I groaned when I felt that Jones was enjoying this. He ground himself against me. I never thought that I could feel so filthy! "Stop it! Get off of me, Jones!"

"Or else what? Your damn husband is nowhere near by and he has not a single clue as to where you are … much less that you are about to be taken by a better man than he." Jones chuckled into my ear before he planted a sloppy opened mouth kiss on my neck. Filthy had just taken a nosedive. It was all I could do to keep supper in my stomach.

I heard a commotion outside and thought that some kind of help was better than none. "Help! Help!"

A smack to my face, silence my screams and to insure that Jones covered my nose and mouth with his hand. I couldn't breath! Struggled as I might, Jones had me pinned and cut off from the world along with cutting off my oxygen supply. Sherlock … he'd die because I hadn't been able to warn him about Jones. The babies … my little twins! Would Sherlock be as cold to them as his father had been to him growing up? God, I hoped not. Just as the world around me began to get darker, Jones let my face go and I took in deep gasps of the filthy air that surrounded us.

"That'll teach you to keep your big beautiful mouth shut, Nona-bird. Oh, but look at the time! I still have to bring Sherlock by. Better this way. He can see me have you before I kill you like the whore you are!" Brutally Jones forced that filthy rag against my face again, and I couldn't fight off the effect of the chloroform. In seconds I was out … fully knowing that the next time I woke I would be raped and murdered. A tear trickled down the side of my cheek as I blacked out.

Later I woke up in a different bed violently, wondering where I was and what happened to my husband. It took me a little time to see that I was home. I had never been so relieved in my entire life. I was home … that meant that Sherlock had to be alive. He was standing near the cribs as Watson settled me back down on the pillows. After a few moments I noticed that Watson was eyeing Sherlock and me worriedly. But the look on Sherlock's face was one of indifference, not relief or anger or worry – it was as if we had no relationship outside of acquaintances. He had never done that since just before we got married. I saw that his head was bandaged, meaning he had been hurt. "What happened?"

"What happened is you walked into Jack's hands, nearly got yourself killed, I lost focus because I saw that you were in danger and was knocked unconscious. If Watson hadn't followed Jones, we both would have died and our children would have become orphans." Sherlock quietly said. That was what scared me most of all. He had no emotion in his voice.

Watson excused himself, and left. I got up and, seeing the kids were asleep in their cribs, smiled just slightly. They were safe. That was all that mattered to me – my family, including my pain in the rear husband, was safe. I slid past Sherlock and went to the bathroom. I wanted to crawl into the tub and scrub myself from head to toe. But, I just couldn't pull the energy needed to do that right away. I wanted to go back to sleep, but I also knew that I had to talk to my husband and try to rebuild the wreck I had caused in our marriage.

When I went into the sitting room, I found him looking out the windows at the thick fog that was only then starting to let up a bit outside. The clock on the mantle told me that I had to have been unconscious for at the least five hours. I must have missed the entire adventure.

Deciding that Sherlock needed time to calm down, I sat down to mend one of his shirts. For a time that is all that happened – I sewed, and Sherlock stared out the window. When he finally did speak, the words were nothing like the ones that I had prepared myself for. "I have decided that you and the children would be better off at Oakstaff. It is too dangerous in London to raise children."

"So, you decide that instead of making provisions to safe guard us from danger you would rather send us away? That isn't your style Sherlock." I shook my head in disbelief. He couldn't mean it. He loved and missed the three of us so much during my pregnancy. I couldn't see him shoving us away because I didn't think out all of the possibilities before going out to save him.

But when he came over and glared me in the eyes, I suddenly realized that was exactly what he meant. "It is impossible to safeguard a woman who never considers anyone but herself! You are going to Oakstaff on the next train and that is final!"

"**I** am going? What about the kids? And where do you get off saying I don't care about you or our babies? I wouldn't have left if I knew Jack didn't know what disguise you were in!" I snapped back with tears in my eyes. Nothing could have broken my heart worse than his look right then. It was cold and empty. Too much like the ones he had given me the time that he tried to throw me out two years before and the one he gave me while he fought off his addiction.

"The children are going with you. I have no abilities with infants." Sherlock stood up and settled in his chair. His body language told me that there would be no reasoning with him. On its old place was that old Moroccan Case – opened with a vile of clear liquid that had to be a seven percent solution next to it. He had made up his mind that he had made the wrong choice before, so he was gong to erase all of those weeks of grief and pain it took to get him clean, and obviously I had lost him forever. 

Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to my observation, and I was going to leave it at that. "Are you going to come visit the kids?" I didn't add myself because obviously he wanted nothing more to do with me. And I think that was what hurt me the most right at that moment – that my husband, who I loved more than my own life, had no feelings for me at all.

After a few minutes he sighed, "I haven't decided."

He hadn't decided?! Oh, that was a sentence he should have never said! "A. I only left because I was scared I was about to lose my husband, whom had no clue that his enemy knew all about his disguise. B. I had no idea that Jones had set me up based off the fact he knew that I would do anything – yes, including get myself killed – to protect previously mentioned pain in the ass husband. C. You want us gone from your life, fine the kids and I will be gone by morning. And D. You helped me make these kids, so you had better be damn good and ready to visit them. They need there father too you know – or don't you care about that? Don't answer, I don't think I want to know."

Before he could say a word, I left and went to what had once been our room to pack everything. God, I loved him so much, but Sherlock could be so infuriating! In an hour, all the stuff that belong to either the twins or me was packed and in the downstairs hall. I got them dressed after I was fully dressed and carried them to the sitting room to say goodbye to their father (who I had no doubt would be high as a kite the minute we were gone – and would undoubtedly never show up to see either of them again). Sherlock was leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, and his fingers steepled together. My love was dead and the monster Holmes was back already, couldn't he have waited for the three of us to leave? "Are you going to say goodbye to the twins, Holmes?"

His face paled and hardened at my use of his surname, but this was not the man that I loved with all of my heart, so I didn't care. Holmes got up, and kissed each baby's forehead – promising to see us as soon as we three were settled in at Oakstaff. He tried to kiss my cheek but I pulled away. "Got to get going. After all, wouldn't want to bother you any longer than necessary, Mr. Holmes."

I ignored him as I carried my children downstairs and made it to the cab. It was Jim Hawks, and a friendlier face I thought I wouldn't have seen that day. He took the children from my arms and let me get settled in his cab before handing each one back to me. Just before we left that building I had called my home for so long, I looked up and swear that there was a pained expression on my former husband's face. It had to be a trick of light and shadow, Sherlock Holmes hated me and wanted nothing to do with our children. My expression I felt was hard and cold – just like the one he had given me earlier. A moment later he rushed from the window; I shook my head. "Jim, let's get going. I have a train to catch."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Holmes."

I decided that was the last time I would be called by my former husband's surname. I was again simply Nona E. Brown. God how that concept broke my already torn heart even more.

***

**_Sherlock_** –

I sat there waiting for that moment I would again be alone in life. I sat there wondering at how quiet the place was, and how empty it felt. Just as my heart felt, I was loosing the family I had created and I couldn't shake the feeling that this was not how things were supposed to be. Still I couldn't protect Nona and our children if she defied me like she had the evening before. I had nearly lost her!

I knew it was Jack who propositioned me and had a suspicion that he knew who I was. As we walked he was silent, but seething with hate. When he indicated a certain flat, I glanced quickly into the window to see what space I had to work with. That was when I saw my wife laying on the bed, her face covered by a rag that was no doubt soaked in chloroform. I couldn't see or hear the babies, but her rising and falling chest told me that Nona was still alive. All I knew then was I had to keep Jack out of that room, and away from my wife.

"Jack?" I spoke in my character.

The man growled a chuckle, the masks were off and the end game had begun. "Yes, Jack the harlot killer … Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

I tore off the top of my disguise and produced the sword from my walking stick. In seconds I had him disarmed and nearly unmasked. "Then the game is up Jack. Do you submit?"

"What else is there for me to do?" At first he was moving as I wanted, but then he surprised me and attacked with his body. I fell back and was knocked out.

Moments later I woke to see Watson looking down on me worriedly. "Watson?"

"I followed him here after I lost Nona in the crowd. Holmes you need to gather yourself. I have no idea where she is." He rambled on worriedly.

I pointed to the window above me. "She's in there. Help me get Jack tied up so we can check on her."

Admittedly I leaned heavily on Watson as we stood and took a breath. He sighed as he spotted Nona on the bed. "I already cuffed him, Holmes. Come on."

We went in, but Nona was so drugged by what I had been correct in assuming was chloroform, that she didn't rouse at all as we checked her to find no damage … thankfully. What had that woman been thinking? She knew of the threat towards her and our … God, I had nearly forgotten the children! I looked around to see and hear nothing. Watson gently took my arm to get my attention. "They're safe at Baker Street, Holmes. Nona asked Mrs. Hudson to stay in the bedroom with them until one of the three of us returns, because Nona was afraid of Jack coming in to steal them."

That didn't ease the grief I felt by much. How could I protect the woman I loved so very dearly, if she acted like this? How could I ever trust my wife again when she had broken this important of a promise to me? That was why I decided that to send her and the children back to Oakstaff was the best for all concerned.

Twice in the hours we waited Watson and I had to sit her up so that she would breath clearly. And once we had to perform that CPR which I doubt that either of us would ever forget. I went to a chemist friend of mine and got a bottle of 90% solution of cocaine. Watson saw the bottle and assumed I was returning to my old 7% habit. "That strong a dose would probably kill you now, Holmes."

"A 90% solution undoubtedly would, Watson. And if Nona passes on this night, so too will I." I made no signs of how much pain I was in … not even in my voice, but Watson knew me far too well.

He shuttered a sigh. "This will not make things better, Holmes. And what about the twins? If Nona dies …"

"If she dies, what is there to say I will not become my father? What is to stop me from hating the two of them as he hated me for so very long? No, it would be better that they were orphaned than to suffer that cruel fate. Besides, this is only if we lose her completely." I had my mind made up. But, thankfully, I didn't have to take the dose.

I was relieved when she finally woke and struggled to see that she was safe at home. She was going to live. But I was still angry with her. Good old Watson knew that this was a problem that only Nona and I could face, and left.

In my anger and fear I didn't let Nona see how upset her actions had made me. I was careful to keep myself distant from her until I could trust my voice to send her and the twins away. I would miss them, but I had to do what was right for my family. Nona however took it the wrong way and was livid with anger as she pointed out why she had come after me. Before I could speak she decided that she didn't want to hear my answer and left to pack.

Her words were so cold when she came in to say goodbye, each an icy knife to my heart. I didn't understand why she refused my kiss, why she was so distant, why her eyes were hard. It wasn't until I saw her glare at me from the cab as if I were her enemy that I realized that she had no real understanding of why I was sending her home! I was such a fool! As fast as I could I rushed down the stairs and out the door to find that she was gone. The train was not to leave for a half hour, which meant that I had time to get to my family and make up my mistake … somehow.

I went upstairs and quickly changed. I was at Victoria twenty minutes later. That should have left me ten minutes to apologize and explain things to Nona, maybe properly show her how deeply I love and would miss her and our children. But they weren't there. She had left as I told her; only she left for the Continent! Damn couldn't she do one thing I told her to do?!

I engaged a special the moment I knew exactly where she was going. On that ride, I helped to push that engine as fast as it could go, and I thought hard. I had been so worried and angry with her that I never asked Nona why she left that night. Now I was worried and ashamed at my actions. Gods, if Moriarty found out about Nona leaving the relative safety of England with our children … I didn't want to explore the possibilities.

By the time I got to the coast, the ship had departed. It had seventeen stops, and Nona could vanish with the twins at any of them. My heart and head both ached. I had driven her away and this time it seemed that she had made good on her vow, but I hadn't … No! She had to have seen the case and the cocaine before she blew up and left with our babies! She swore I would never find her again. I hadn't used it, yet she didn't know that.

Hours later I arrived back in London. Once home I searched our rooms for any hope of where she would go. Nona had been through in her packing. There was not a single sign that she or the children had ever been a part of my life – except for in my broken heart. I had no clue as to where she would go. Outside of London and North Riding, Nona had no contacts that I knew of. 

Mycroft's agents were as helpful as they had been the time I drove Nona off before our marriage. Father blamed her for her actions, while Sherrinford and Holly both voiced loudly how wrong they thought I had handled the situation. So they were of no help. Trish didn't know of any other people Nona might have gone to, but believed that my wife wouldn't endanger the children by taking off with nowhere to go. That gave me some hope. Nona had somewhere to stay with our children.

All I knew for certain was that she had gone to the Continent. I had no idea where she was or if she and our children were well. If I knew that the three of them were safe, I could rest easier. I knew that she wanted nothing to do with me. After all she had gone back to using my surname when addressing me and pulled away from my attempted kiss. Even more damning was that cold look in her eyes the day I last saw her and our babies. I had lost the woman I never wanted to be without.

Somewhere along those first two weeks I picked up an annoying cough that just wouldn't go away. Watson ordered me to bed rest so that I would be well when I saw my wife and children again. He knew too well I wouldn't rest until I knew that Nona and the babies were safe at Baker Street or at Oak Staff. Thankfully he did not push the issue.

And even after over month of searching, I still didn't have any idea where my wife and children were or if they were safe. I was a fool to push her away again. And now I was being punished for my hurt pride. Nearly Christmas and I was alone. My twin children's first Christmas and they would not be home. Mine and Nona's first Christmas as husband and wife, and it seemed we would shortly stop being so.

At night I now and again think about the woman and children I had lost. I wondered if the children and my wife were in warm shelter. If the children were sleeping, or fussing, or feeding. I remembered what Nona had done to make our first Christmas day wonderful. I wondered if she had done the same for our children. I could imagine the noises of our children, remember Nona's laugh, her voice. There I was, a lonely man in our empty rooms – all because of my pride.

Watson had his pregnant wife – he didn't need me darkening his doorstep. My family was still divided on how I treated my wife and children. No solace would be found at home this holiday. I looked into the night and wished for one last chance to have my family.

Mother's words came back to haunt me. She hadn't been sanctioning my future actions in guarding my family; it had been Nona's. Why had Nona left? That question still ripped into my being worse than the cough that grated my lungs. I had given up smoking my pipe because it only made my lungs burn worse. My head was throbbing much of the time. I had no time for being sick! My family's lives were on the line. And then I got the news I wanted to hear – an informant traced the three of them to France! They were so close, and now … just maybe I would get back what I had lost. I would have to be careful. One wrong word or look could end it all.

But as I got up to pack to rush to my family, I stumbled. Wiping my forehead, I noticed I was coated in sweat. This was not how I wanted Nona to see me. I started for a bath, but my eyesight blurred and doubled. No! Not when I was so close to getting them back! At the sitting room door lost my balance and fell. I blacked out.

***

**_Watson_** –

Eight days before Christmas, I received a telegram from Nona assuring us that she and the children were fine. If she only knew how worried we had all been. I had Mary finish reading it to me as I started to bundle up to go report the news to Holmes at once. I decided myself that maybe I could get Holmes to get off of his high horse and apologize for the blunder he had made.

Nona asked if it would be all right for the three of them to visit us for the holidays. Mary agreed with me that would be the best of Christmas gifts. In fact Mary and I began discussing how we could go about healing our friends' marriage when there was an urgent pounding on our door. Mrs. Hudson rushed in with and panicked look on her face. "Dr. Watson come quick! Mr. Holmes passed out and is wheezing hard!"

I feared the worse. Holmes would die before we could get Nona and the children back to see him one last time. Quickly I sent off a telegram.

**N -**

**COME BACK NOW STOP HOLMES IS ILL STOP COULD BE SERIOUS STOP BE READY FOR THE WORSE STOP**

**- W**

After that was sent, I rushed back to Baker Street. I knew that Holmes had been working tirelessly to find his wife and children. In fact I had no doubt that he was being more thoughtless as to his own well being than normal. All that mattered to my friend was that his family was at the least safe from harm. I prayed that he wasn't any more seriously ill than at the end of any other tiring case. Still I had a feeling that Holmes would this time be fighting for his life.

That feeling was confirmed and made worse. I examined a still unconscious Holmes to find he was suffering from a severe case of influenza that threatened to become pneumonia. I hated to, but Nona had to be made aware of how dangerous the situation was.

**N -**

**WORSE THAN FEARED STOP RETURN AS SOON AS IS POSSIBLE STOP DOUBT WILL MAKE IT IN TIME STOP**

**- W**

I wondered if Holmes had gone too far in driving off Nona this time. Would she even care enough about him to let the children say goodbye to their father if he were to die? I shook my head of those thoughts. I had to make this stubborn man live. I had pulled him back from illness before, I wasn't going to let Nona or my godchildren down by letting Holmes die now.

***

**_Nona_** –

I was packing leisurely for the trip back to London. I knew that Watson and Mary wouldn't deny the chance to see their godchildren for Christmas. The telegram was simply my using good manners. Some of this century had seemingly rubbed off on me.

For a month the twins had been cranky and wouldn't let anyone but me hold them. I figured that they were homesick, and yes, I had no doubt that they missed their jerk of a father. I had to admit that I missed him too. But what he had said and done … the case … it was all too much. He had made his choice, and I had to let him live with it.

At Victoria Station that heart breaking morning, I hated the fact that I was stuck doing exactly what my pig-headed husband commanded me to do. He refused to listen to me, so why should I do a word he said? Because I knew of nowhere else to go with two little babies and enemies that would love to get their hands on us to bend Sherlock to their will.

But, that wasn't entirely true … Jeanette. In France when Watson and I went to get Holmes back before he and I faced that we had fallen in love, I had made a friend of a young heiress by the name of Jeanette Pres. She and I had kept in contact, though Holmes never knew of it. She said if I ever needed anything that all I had to do was send a telegram.

Hastily I wrote out that my children and I were coming to pay her a visit, and that I needed some advice. Then I bought a ticket for the Continent instead of North Riding. By the time the boat docked in France, Jeanette was right there waiting on the three of us. Her manor estate overlooked a vale that painfully reminded me of the view from the cottage Holmes and I had shared on our honeymoon. She was happy to have us, and told me to listen to my heart. That was hard, seeing as my heart was divided at that point.

Jeanette loved doting on my twins, and treated the three of us as family. Soon I was fully healed from birthing the babies, but my heart was still a wreck. Several gentlemen came by to visit my friend and a few had tried to get close to me. I wasn't ready for something like that. First, I was still married until Holmes until he sent me the divorce papers. Yes, I had taken to wearing my wedding ring on a chain around my neck two days after I left London, but I was a mom and I still loved as well as hated my husband. Maybe one day my daughter or son would need it for their wedding. But I refused to wear it. I knew that my husband no longer loved me, and it felt wrong for me to wear the piece of gold if he no longer felt the same towards me. After that I knew that none could ever take my Holmes' place in my heart.

Jeanette advised me to not making any decisions I would one day regret, and I was grateful for that. She also advised the gentlemen visitors that I was a friend who was visiting with my two infant children. That knocked the guys away fast.

Taking care of the twins and myself had taken a large amount of my time, so I didn't really have time to feel outside of the moment. Still there were the nights. It felt cold and lonely in the small bed without his warmth and scent comforting me into sleep. In fact I had a hard time sleeping most nights. Those were the nights I wanted to send him a telegram to say I wanted to come home and would stay in 221b without argument. But I would just lie there and cried myself to sleep with my broken heart pleading for him. I knew he would want me in his childhood home rather than take me back.

The week before I had made my plans for the holidays, Jeanette had gone on holiday in the Alps and wouldn't be back until the New Year. I sent her word of my plans, and she was overjoyed – giving me her best wishes with Sherlock. She had no idea that I had no intention of ever seeing my former husband ever again. I had planned on Watson inviting Sherlock to visit the children while I went shopping or something to keep the two of us separate. After all he wouldn't want to be in the same house as me – not even for our babies.

When I got Watson's first telegram I was a little uneasy. But I figured that Holmes had a case he was working on and he worked himself into bed. It had happened before. That meant there was no need to worry. The fact that Watson didn't know how bad it was told me that Mrs. Hudson, Grace, or Billy had only just arrived and Watson was about to leave to check on Holmes. I knew that soon I would be getting a second telegram. Once I was finished packing and readying the twins, I waited and wasn't disappointed.

'Worse than feared.' Holmes must have done a number on himself this time. I shook my head. That stubborn man never could take care of himself! I would return, but I wasn't going to see my pig of an ex-husband. But then, Watson never was one for teasing or tricking others – it wasn't in his nature, unless Holmes needed it for a case. I knew that our friend would never trick me into seeing Holmes. 'Doubt will make it in time.' That had me worried. Holmes couldn't be that bad off? Could he? One thing I knew – with Sherlock Holmes, I was not going to chance it. I rushed back to London, every moment twisting me heart with worry. Was he going to die? Was it my fault? Would our twins grow up without a father?

Before long I was in Victoria Station once again. I was stunned to see Mycroft and Trish standing there waiting. Neither of them looked happy to see me. I looked at my brother-in-law and saw how he was holding himself back. "How bad is it?"

Mycroft only took Michael from my arms and walked out to the cab. Trish elbowed me. "He's real pissed with you. I'm still working on him about Sherlock's part in this problem, and I don't want to hear it. The pair of you are acting way childish, and that is all I will say about that. Sherlock has near pneumonia, and Watson doesn't hold high hopes for any recovery whatsoever. Where's your wedding ring?"

I ripped the necklace from my neck and pulled it off the chain before sliding it back on my hand. "I didn't feel right wearing it, given Holmes regrets marrying me."

"No he doesn't! What do you think got him in this state? He's been doing triple load trying to find you and the kids! Damn girl, you two need to sit down and actually talk instead of assuming what you don't know for sure." Trish quietly told me as she got in the carriage. I handed my daughter over to her and sat across from the pair of them. The truth hit me hard. God, could he still actually love me – after everything? No, I had gone too far and lost him – I knew it.

Mycroft cleared his throat, as the carriage started for what I was hoping was still my home. "I see you were good enough to find your band. I doubt it would help my brother's condition if he were to see you without it. After all …"

I was not in the mood to be lectured by Butterball. "You don't have all of the facts! And as Sherlock loves to say, it is dangerous to theorize in advance of the facts. I had my reasons to go after him that night."

"Such as."

I handed that hated telegram to Mycroft. I kept it so that one day I could plead my case to whoever would listen. After he read it he gave it to Trish. "I don't get it. If Sherlock thinks …"

"He's doing the same thing your guy just tried – deducing without two key facts." I said flatly. I just wanted my husband to love me again.

"Please elaborate." Mycroft obviously was not impressed. "Clearly Sherlock did not know that Jack knew of his disguise."

"Which put my husband in danger, and I do want to keep him around for a long time. But it also put the kids in danger." I snapped. I hated when he looked at me condescending. And at that moment, Mycroft wore the most patronizing look I had ever seen on his face in all of the time I had known him.

Trish was still out of the loop. "How?"

"If I hadn't left the flat that night, Jack would have came in after me. I wanted to keep him away from these angels. And if I stayed home, he would have come in after me. And I couldn't guarantee that the kids would be safe. I'd give up my life before my husband and kids would get hurt. Sherlock just doesn't seem to feel that way towards me anymore."

I watched as the buildings flew by. I felt my world fall apart. I knew that I had no husband left to go home too, but maybe my kids would still have a father that I could help save. It all depended on him. Mycroft took Trish's hand when she tried to say something, so the rest of the trip was silent.

All too soon I was looking up at old 221b. It gave me a twinge to not see him looking out the window. As if I had hoped to find him looking for me. Well, he probably wasn't in any shape for that. I could only hope that I could get him well enough to see the kids. After that we could deal with our problems.

Mycroft went upstairs and consulted with Watson, who came down with a weary smile on his face a few minutes later. "Nona! You don't know how good it is to see the three of you!" He hugged me for a moment and then took Michael from Mrs. Hudson, and heartily returned to being a godfather. "And have the two of you been good for your mother?"

I couldn't help but smile and chuckle. "They have been angels most of the time. How is their father?"

"It's bad, Nona. Worse than I have ever seen him get. I can't let these two go in the room with him, because of their being so young." Watson looked again like the tired doctor he was. I had done this to my husband. I didn't know what to do for a moment, and I guess that Watson saw this. "He has been worried about the three of you. That's what drove him to this illness – searching for his family."

"Don't add me in out of respect, Watson. He wanted to find the kids." I knew that there was no way I would ever regain the man I loved so much. Watson shook his head. "I swear that the two of you are still as stubborn as ever. He refuses to rest and recover until he gets his family back, and you refuse to believe he is looking for you as well."

I found a faint hope in my heart at that. But, I brushed it aside. I knew that Sherlock hated me. It was time to face that he wanted to divorce me. "Can I see him?"

Watson nodded, and I handed Violet to Mrs. Hudson before starting up the stairs. Mycroft winked and smiled at me for the first time since I first got back into London, as he passed me in the hall. I got to that familiar door and took a deep breath before facing the man I left over a month before.

Sherlock was lying on our bed with his eyes shut, but his breathing told me that he wasn't asleep. He was so thin and pale that I couldn't help feeling guilty. Time to get his 'we made a mistake' speech over with, no matter how much I didn't want it to be true. "You still can't pull off a convincing fake sleep, Sherlock." My voice was so soft that I doubted he had heard me, but a deep breath later showed that he had. "I wasn't trying. I was readying myself."

"To deal with me?"

"To hear you say that I've lost you."

That stunned me. He was thinking that I wanted to leave him? Was it that we were misunderstanding one another? "I took a breath outside to help me cope with you saying that you had made a mistake in marrying me."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he started to get himself out of bed at that. He was still too weak, and I just knew that he would collapse if I let him up. So, I rushed over and held him down on the bed by his shoulders … at least that had been my intention. Somehow in the emotion of the moment and my momentum, I ended up pinned to his chest by two still strong arms. I gave in and just melted into his hold on me, and let all of the grief and frustration melt into tears as I sobbed out his name over and over into his neck between kisses. He cinched his hold around me tighter and kissed my head before he started rubbing my back. This was the man that I loved so very deeply. This was the Sherlock that I had married almost a year before.

Somehow he twisted his body until I was laying beside him on my side our bed, and I didn't fight it. It felt good to at last be home – and, in that moment, I knew that was exactly where I was … home. For a long time we said nothing, our hearts were doing all of the talking and healing the wounds that long separation had caused us both. He stroked my cheek with his thumb and I just smiled in peace and hope. I was tired of being without him, and tired of being away from home – as were the kids.

After a time, I was pulled out of a near dose by his wonderful baritone voice. "Mycroft told me your explanation. Why didn't you just tell me all of it?"

"Think back to that fight. How were both of us acting? How were we both feeling? Neither of us were ready to talk, and we should have waited until we calmed down." I sighed. I finally looked back on that night and remembered how drawn and hurt my husband's body language was. "Why did you bring out that case and the solution again?"

He clutched me tighter to his chest. I had to know the truth. Was he still addicted again? Were Watson and I going to have to struggle through another set of weeks watching him fight for his life? And what about his vow to never let our children see him use drugs? Then I remembered about my vow that he would never see me again if he drugged himself. It hurt so bad to be without him, how could I leave and never return?

"It was a vile of 90% solution cocaine. I decided that if I lost you I wouldn't risk our children growing up with a father like I had. I was going to end my life moments after losing you."

His calmness as he admitted the truth had me terrified. He had really planed on killing himself? God, I couldn't let him ever do that! "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, how could you be so cold and heartless? Our babies would have needed you! And you would have never hated them like your dad did, because you know without a doubt that they are our kids. No one could have made you think otherwise. No … don't you ever even consider such a stupid plan again! That was what made me take the kids and leave! I thought you regretted marrying me, and therefore regret our kids. That you were going to erase your mistake by going back to your drug addiction. I thought that the monster we had defeated had come back and I lost my husband forever. That was why I went to France."

"I only wanted to keep you and the babies safe. I didn't know about the danger leaving all of you here had put you three in. I will not consider taking my life after losing you again, if you consider making me talk rather than blowing up and leaving." When I nodded in agreement, Sherlock smirked in a way I couldn't help but smile at. "I forgot what Mother had me promise her – that what one does to protect family is not wrong. I had thought she was talking about my actions, but it was your decision she had been speaking of. It would seem that this being married is a tedious as being parents. Shall we try this again?"

He wiped away the tears I hadn't noticed falling down my face. Not trusting my voice at that moment, I smiled and nodded as he kissed my forehead and pulled me tighter to his body. What that did to me was enough to heat the sun to implosion temperature. "When you are well enough for me to get back in this bed, you are going to suffer that tripled triple punishment fully and properly."

"And then, I get a turn at punishing you … Mrs. Sherlock Holmes."

Implosion temps were now dusted! And I could see in his twinkling glittery gray eyes that he was feeling the same as I was (along with other not so subtle clues he was giving me). I'm willing to bet that was his fire to heal faster. Because on Christmas day Watson gave the okay for and the kids went in and visited with their father for the first time in a month. Nonetheless they curled up tight in his arms, looked up into his face and both smiled. Sherlock didn't say a word; he just lay there cuddling our babies as they both fell asleep in his arms. I think that was the best Christmas gift of all for my husband. The others left us alone with the kids, and I stood there at the end of the bed smiling at them. My little family. How I wanted to lay there with them. Sherlock seemed to read my longing in my face. "How much longer until our family is whole, angel?"

I was stunned. Did he really mean? He used his eyes to point out my empty side of the bed. God, he did mean it! My husband wanted me back! I climbed into our bed, laid a hand across both children, and rested my head on his shoulder. He laid his head on mine, and for once I knew without question that I was home. We lay there for a good hour, before we finally settled the kids in their cribs and went out into the sitting room to keep from having fun before Christmas dinner. Sherlock sat in his usual chair and I looked out the window at the falling snow.

I watched as a man, carrying both a goose and a hat, walked up the street. It wasn't all that unusual a sight on the normally much busier street. What caught my eye was the fact that he was wearing a hat on his head. Hat on the head and a hat in the hand, it felt familiar. It took a few beats, but I put it all together and smiled. A case for Christmas, I couldn't help but chuckle at it. Sherlock looked over at me with an eyebrow raised. "And what is it you find so humorous today, my Mrs. Holmes?"

"Outside of how my husband loves calling me by my married name, and how it feels so good to hear it from his lips again? Peterson the commissionaire is bringing you a case, Sherlock dear." I grinned at how his eyes lit up twice, once for the mention of work and the other for my calling him by his given name and calling him my dear.

The bell rang, Sherlock nodded, and I rushed out the sitting room, and to the top of the stairs. "Send the gentleman up Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock is just fine."

When I walked back into the sitting room Sherlock had a knowing look on his face. I crossed my arms and gave him a defiant look. "Yes, I've read this one. But, you Sir Sherlock will have to do your work – I'm not telling you a thing."

"Very well, Lady Nona." He knew that made me squirm. "But you will pay for it tonight."

I grinned at that. I could hardly wait for the sun to set. Reading the adventure is nothing like sitting there listening to Peterson telling his story. He was very agitated and had no idea what to do. Sherlock told the man to take the goose home with him, but leave the hat with us. Grateful for the assistance, Peterson wished us a Merry Christmas, and took his leave. I just sat there grinning as Sherlock got out his magnifying glass and tore into the mystery like a child with a new toy. Fitting for the season I thought.

I just had to tease him. "Looks like you have a new toy to play with. So hot chocolate, coffee, tea, or me handsome?"

Without looking up from the hat he droned out. "Do you really need ask that particular question?"

I had just gotten my tease stolen! Adding on the chuckle he was pathetically trying to hide, I realized that my husband truly was well on his way to recovery. My, but tonight would be lots of fun. "You can have me tonight for dessert. But right now you have a mystery to solve, and I need a warm up. Coffee then?"

"That delightful concoction you created at this time last year should suffice." Sherlock sighed uninterestingly as he continued his examination of the hat. A tease combined with a compliment. Forget my earlier deduction – Sherlock was just fine! But I had to top him. "Only suffice? I remember last year you finished off two pots by yourself."

"I was on a case and needed to stay awake."

"And I'm Santa Claus. If you think you are going to get me to believe that, I have some property in Arizona that is right on the beach I'll sell you – and I'll even throw in the Golden Gate for free."

Sherlock ceased examining the hat and smiled at me – yes, he smiled! "You are in no way near matching Mr. Claus in weight or girth, but you do make a provocative Mrs. Claus if I say so myself. As to the rest, all impossible … though the offer is appreciated for a place to escape the summer London heat."

I shook my head. This is why I refused to get into a battle of wits with my husband – I'm nearly always unarmed! But tonight he would be speechless, I just hoped it would be in the way I wanted it. Mom had left me a very nice Christmas gift that Dad sent up with Mycroft (who had his fittings for his tux a few days before, and complained about how eloping with Trish was beginning to sound better with every fitting and tradition – just like a certain family detective I know had complained nearly a year before). A red lace teddy that opened at the crotch, a red silk kimono, and my favorite perfume – oh mom had outdone herself with this gift. For now it was time to make my husband regret ever teasing me. A square of dark baking chocolate, one vanilla bean, four cinnamon sticks, some brown sugar, a cup of heavy cream, and coffee. My Santa Break Java as I said before was a definite favorite of my husband's. I left one pot downstairs for Mrs. Hudson and Grace, while I carried the second up to the sitting room. Before I could set the tray down to free a hand to reach for the door handle, Sherlock opened the door with a twinkle in his eyes. "Sherlock, its just coffee."

I carried the tray in and sat it on the table, but before I could pour some Sherlock twisted me around and looked me in the eyes. "Before you became a part of my life, it was just coffee. When you have ever been away from me, it has been just coffee. When we eat out, it is just coffee. Your coffee is not, nor will it ever be, just coffee."

"Can't say I don't feel loved." I sneered as I chuckled and turned around to pour us both a cup. Sherlock sat in his chair and took out his brier pipe indifferently. "Do pour me a cup as well, Mrs. Holmes."

"If you want your gift tonight, then you had better come over and get this cup of coffee." I shot him a look that told my dear husband I wasn't kidding. And that night I showed him. Afterwards he showed me how much he missed my sharing our bed with him. To be frank, my husband swore he would write his mother-in-law a lengthy thank you note for the gift he truly adored – I couldn't decide if he was talking about the outfit or me, and Sherlock still refuses to say. It was very late by the time we finally settled down for some sleep, with his arms holding me tight to him. In fact those days I first settled back in our bed were very much like that.

Right on time, two days after Christmas, I was laying on the floor playing with the twins. Sherlock was in the purple dressing gown I had gotten him the day before, still considering the problem of the hat. "Nona why did you put those shirts on the twins?"

"Because Watson is going to be dropping by today." I cooed as Violet squirmed and smiled up at me. I couldn't wait for him to show up! He would love these shirts! I had chosen the ones that read 'Uncle's Precious Treasure'. 

"Nona." But the ringing doorbell interrupted Sherlock. I smirked his usual superior grin at him. "Told you so." Moments later Watson came into the room. One glance at the hat and the looks on Sherlock and my faces sent one thought into our family doctor's mind. "Perhaps I am interrupting the four of you?"

"No Watson, you just proved me right. Come in here and see what I'm put on the twins!" I chuckled.

He took off his coat and hat and picked up Michael, who smiled happily. Watson looked at the shirt with a strange look on his face. "One of the informative gifts from your family I see Nona."

"Read it Watson." I grinned.

After a beat he got this stunned but grateful look in his eyes. I couldn't hide back my smile and, looking over Watson's shoulder, I could see that my husband too felt the same way. Sherlock was fighting off his grin desperately. "And besides, I am glad to have a friend with whom I can **_discuss_** my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one, but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of **_instruction_**."

"And a certain happily married detective is peeved that his wife will not say a word one way or another concerning his deductions – seeing as this is one of my favorite holiday cases. No cheating Sherlock, I told you long ago that I will not do your work for you." I smirked as Watson lost his battle with his chuckles at the mock battle of words between Sherlock and myself. As good a team Sherlock and Watson were, my husband and I made as equally good a partnership.

Watson sat in Sherlock's chair by the fire because of how cool it was. In fact the windows really were covered with a thick sheet of beautiful ice crystals, funny how I hadn't noticed it before. Watson smiled down on my son as Michael dosed off to sleep. He indicated the hat with his head after he was sure that Michael was deep in his nap. "I suppose that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it -- that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime."

I chuckled. That is exactly what I would have supposed as well if I hadn't already known all about the truth behind the ratty hat. It was rare to find such lark cases as this. Sherlock too was laughing "No, no. No crime. Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such."

"Ah yes. Of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime." Watson reported duly. He looked over at me. "Did they seem accurate from your memory, Nona?"

"The stories, as always, are just as I remember them, Watson." I smiled. "Though I must say that living the story is better than reading it."

"Quite so, Mrs. Holmes." Sherlock shot a grin at me, knowing that he had gotten my goat by using my married name in front of a now chuckling Watson. "The three that you are alluding to, Watson, are exactly the type I was referring to. My attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?"

"Yes" Watson looked over at me curiously, but I shook my head. This was their case to solve; I was merely along for the ride. Holmes pointed to the hat as he took claim of our yawning daughter. "It is to him that this trophy belongs."

"It is his hat." Watson deduced wrongly, but Sherlock set him right and explained the tale. I snuck off to make up some eggnog coffee that I happened to know both men enjoyed thoroughly. When I got back, both kids were in their cribs near the fire and the men were still talking about the case in low voices. Sherlock took a whiff of the aroma from the coffee pot and smiled brightly at me as he explained further. "Peterson brought both the hat and goose to us on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to Nona and myself – along with wanting to catch a glimpse of the twins. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfill the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner."

I poured and distributed the cups of coffee, gaining a brilliant smile from Watson as the men talked over the case. I feared that I was going to have to tell Watson's maid all of my coffee making secrets, or else Mary would never see her husband again. And then the agony of knowing she would soon die. I never knew how, so I knew that I couldn't warn Watson of the truth. Besides, I know that the looming knowledge of Sherlock's coming battle with Moriarty still hurt me – even with the knowledge that he would survive and that he would contact me as soon as he could. I wouldn't do that to my friend and family physician.

I watched and smiled as Sherlock and Watson covered what could be drawn from the single piece of evidence in our possession. It was as if the pair was two little boys deciding on some game or another. They were a part of my life I knew right then that I couldn't be without. When Sherlock commented on the hat owner's wife had ceased loving her husband, he glanced up at me with a worried look hidden deep in his eyes. Our separation was still an aching wound for us both. I smiled gently and mouthed out 'love you'. That was enough for him. But Watson was scandalized at that conclusion. I won't go too in depth with the case, mostly because Watson's description is pretty accurate – excluding the idea of him being dumb. I always hated how he made himself out to be so slow and dim-witted in the stories he wrote, when in truth he was nearly as brilliant as my husband – it was simply a matter of training that differentiated the pair. 

Sherlock looked straight at me when he explained his statement of the hat owner losing his wife's love, which Watson reworded perfectly. My husband's words ran more like this: "This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, or even if my hat were to collect that much dust since regaining my Nona, and when our wives allow either of us to go out in such a state, I shall fear that we also have been unfortunate enough to lose our wives' affections."

His look of adoration and respect towards me in that one moment pulled me out of the conversation. Sherlock had just inferred that at least some of our casework came in because of my presence in his life. I highly doubted it then and now, but for him to admit such at anytime was a big thing. I saw just how deeply my husband loved me, more so than any of our nights since I was finally allowed back in our bed after his illness.

Mrs. Hudson and Grace collected the twins so that we adults wouldn't have to keep our voices down. And that was a very good thing, for not only did it break me out of the revelry my husband's words had sent me into but it also protected their naps. Because not ten minutes later the door flew open and Peterson rushed into the sitting room. I couldn't help but chuckle at Holmes' little joke. But then Peterson placed that beautiful twinkling blue jewel in my hand. I was holding the real blue carbuncle that belonged to the Countess of Morcar. That got my husband's attention. And when he mentioned the size of the reward, Peterson wasn't the only one shocked. I became afraid of dropping it and doing it irreparable damage. I knew that this was coming, and that I would see this beautiful gem. Yet, now that it was real and in my palm, I was in absolute astonishment and hadn't the slightest clue on how to proceed. Watson and Sherlock continued through the next part of the story while I was lost looking at that gem of all gems.

It wasn't until Sherlock wrapped my fingers gently around the stone that I was pulled back into reality. "Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring."

Once Peterson had left, I sat down numbly beside my husband and set the stone into his hand. Holmes rubbed my back to ease me before he explained vaguely the account of the stone's history, and his current plans for the stone. Watson decided to return to his rounds, seeing that his godchildren were very well – as was their mother and father (he later told me that he wished he could have written about how nearly human Sherlock had become since regaining me). But he promised to return for the end of the case and dinner with us – given that Mary was visiting with Mrs. Forester that evening. Watson and I both chuckled at Sherlock's joke about having Mrs. Hudson check the woodcock's crop.

Once Watson left I was just going to remain silent, so that Sherlock would have his mind on the case. But he had other thoughts on his mind. "A very different thing living out the adventure you read so many a holiday time?"

I saw through his deductions easily. "Yeah. Though I did read this story at other times of the year too you know. To have actually handled that stone of all stones."

He smiled at me and returned to his thoughts with a smile on his face. I just wondered if it was only the case that was on his mind. I sat down and finally finished that shirt I had been mending the night we got into that fight. It was as if everything as finally settled back into the norm. Sherlock flashed me a split-second smile before closing his eyes, settling back into his chair, and steepling his fingers. I grinned and shook my head at the sight of my husband's body relaxing.

The case was interesting to say the least. James Ryder was a nervous man, and I could see that seeing me smile and offer him a whiskey and soda set him more at ease. This indeed had been his first crime, and I was hoping it too would be his last. I had to fight off the urge to chuckle when Holmes referred to the carbuncle as an egg. When he nearly fainted into the fire, I got the brandy while Watson set Ryder into Holmes' chair. Once that was over with, Holmes gave the stone over to my keeping while we listened to Ryder's account of the truth. When Holmes sent the jerk that wrongfully accused another away, I turned my back on our 'guest' and his eyes that pleaded for my intercession. Fitting I thought. The kids broke out in cries when the jerk slammed the door shut. I shook my head. "I'll go down and calm them."

"I believe that is Mrs. Hudson and Grace now with our two frightened angels, Nona dear." Holmes sighed as he again opened the door to prove his deduction correct. I took Violet this time, while Holmes took our Michael. It took a few moments, but soon both were sufficiently soothed as long as they were in the arms of their parents.

Watson shook his head. "Why did you just let that man escape, Holmes?"

"Watson, Ryder was a guy who made a wrong choice." I sighed as I smiled down on my baby girl. I cooed as I brushed my finger up and down my baby's cheek. "He's harmless."

"After all, Watson," Sherlock smiled down on our son as Michael grabbed his father's shirt, "I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you make him a jailbird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature."

Watson smiled at the picture the four of us had to make and nodded.

***

A few days later, on December 28th, my pain in the rear best friend became my pain in the rear sister-in-law. Dad was still angry with me, but Sherlock stood up to him and told the truth for us both. That made dad smile, and reunited our family in time to get the couple to the church.

Watson and Mary held the twins while Sherlock, Sherrinford, Holly, and I stood beside Trish and Mycroft before the same pastor who seemed to be satisfied to have married all three men in his life. Only two more ceremonies for Trish and Mycroft to catch up to the rest of us on – the childbirth Thanksgiving and their kids' baptisms – I couldn't wait.

Sherlock and I couldn't hold back our chuckles when I aimed and hit my target when we were shooing the couple off to their honeymoon. Left slipper in the carriage – with a note of course.

**_Hey Sis and Bro,_**

****

**_One good turn deserves the same in kind … did I really just write that? Sherlock has been rubbing off on me far too much! Anyway 2 more celebrations for you guys to catch up on. Have fun playing catch up, I know Sherlock and I did. And, of course, all the best to you both. Thanks for everything._**

****

N & S 

The smirks and winks we got from both the bride and groom told us that they intended to follow our advice. Looks like miracles do happen after all.

* * *

Now all of the chapters have been re-written. Tell me what all of you think. Should I add on a new chapter? Would anyone like me to go through the rest of the cases? Are the Final Problem and Empty House interesting to anyone? No reviews means no new chapters.


	8. In Which We Face Anniversaries, Identity...

Amazingly this is the first new chapter that I have added on in a long time. This is also the first that has not gone by March Hare before given over to the public, hope that it is deemed worthy of both this fic and its parent work.

Seeing as I have taken a long time to update, I have put in two cases in this chapter. Speaking of cases, are there any cases that the readers would like seen covered? If it is possible, I will try to wheedle them in.

**SURGEON GENERAL WARNING:** The following fan fiction off of a piece of fan fiction contains **EXTREMELY HIGH** levels of **BST** – which has been proven to cause severe addiction in low doses. Read at your own risk. If you feel you are addicted it is too late – pray for new chapters and ease withdraw symptoms with re-reading past chapters from start to finish, or get allowance to write your own fan fiction from March Hare. You all who have yet to read any of it have been warned.

**DISCLAIMER:** Sherlock Holmes and all Cannonal Characters do not belong to me – in the **US** they belong to the estate of Dame Jean Conan Doyle (at least the casebook does). All **BST** characters not seen in the Cannon or other Sherlockian works belong to either March Hare or their perspective owners. All other characters belong to me, and cannot be used without my permission.

BST Chapter 20

**In Which We Face Anniversaries, Identity, and Copper Beeches**

By Bonnie S.

**_Nona_** –

Sherlock and I kept our tradition at New Year's. 'A kiss for luck and a better year than what has past,' he once described it to me. I called him a sap and told him to quit pretending to be Watson – that the melodrama was much better suited for our family physician slash biographer. This only got him to chuckle heartily, but I loved that sound – so anytime I could hear it was heaven. It was in that first January after the twins' birth that Sherlock, Watson, and I went over the cases in that box that my husband still owns – on Sherlock's birthday nonetheless.  Yes there were many more cases than those Watson had published, and no I will never do so myself – nor will I ever explain why. That is why my husband trusts me so; at least that was what he once told me. The twins had just begun sleeping through the night – much to the absolute pleasure of their parents mind you. Watson, Holmes, and I all three gave the twins baths before we went through the trunk and was treated to a first. They had giggled and gave excited gasps, but Watson picked up Michael with an "ah", and the kid mimicked it! I went "oh" and was mimicked by my little Violet. Their first sounds! Sherlock counted this as one of his best birthdays. So did I, until I picked up Violet and she grabbed onto a handful of my loose hair – for a small kid she had a strong grip!

The rest of January went quiet as far as the business went. That doesn't mean things changed between Sherlock and I. I woke up the morning of the twenty-fifth to find that Sherlock had already woke earlier and let me sleep in, but on his pillow was a long stem, thorn-less red rose. Under this was a card that only said "**_Sitting Room"_**. Getting dressed fast, I went out to find a large vase filled with similar roses on the dining table. I took a whiff and said out loud to no one in particular, "where did my husband find red roses in England in the middle of January?" To be honest I hadn't been expecting an answer, so when Trish, Watson, and Mary chuckled I jumped.

Trish smirked. "He got them from Victoria via my guy, girlfriend. By the way, happy anniversary from Mycroft and myself – though no opening it until your hubby shows up." Mary and Watson too gave me a gift with the same rule. The three of them were seemingly babysitting for me so I could sleep in thanks to Sherlock, who was out setting up a surprise for me. We had a nice lunch and made up for time we all once had before the weddings and the babies. Mary was feeling better and had just started showing, but told us she had decided that after that day she was going to stay at home and focus everything on her son. She had forgone her corset for a slightly larger dress, but it was starting to feel tight and she was still very Victorian in some aspects. After an hour, everyone left though my husband had yet to make an appearance.

I waited another hour and started to worry. Had Moriarty struck so soon? Had I change history and ended not only a brilliant career but the life of my only love as well? No. I had to keep calm. There were cases ahead. Sherlock was fine. I still wouldn't have minded him showing up. I fed the twins, gave them a bath, and settled them down for the night. Afterwards I sat in his seat and only then decided to get a bath myself. 'Who knows, he probably has plans.' I thought to myself. I finished after taking my time remembering the first time I had been in this same tub and slowly started to ease myself out of the tub to be shocked – my husband stood there smirking at me! "Sherlock!" I was blushing hotter than I had ever in my life, and my husband had the bathroom door open! For a moment I glared, but I eventually broke down into chuckles too. "You do realize that this is how we got started a mere year and few months ago."

"And you are still that tempting vision you were that first morning, Mrs. Holmes." His eyes held that fire he got seemingly for me alone. I can't really describe them because it was a look one had to see to fully take in. "I trust you enjoyed your first gift."

I was stunned – first gift? "The roses? I loved them. My favorite flower on a day they are hard to find in England. But what do you mean by **_first_** gift?" Sherlock came over and pulled towel clad me close to his chest. I shivered as his lips came close to my ear. "First gift for the first change you made in my life. Coming Nona?" And with that he left! Oh yeah, he would pay tonight when we were going to bed. We left for supper in a hidden restaurant we loved to go to alone. He reached a case that held a beautiful diamond and emerald bracelet to me and smirked! "For giving me a challenge I have yet to meet." As he slid it onto my wrist, I was really fighting my tears then. In the carriage from supper he handed over a beautiful peach rose with a card. '**_For my life._**' That was all it said. I'll admit a few tears slipped from my eyes from that.

After that we went to a performance of that opera we first went to so long before. On my seat was another card under my opera glasses. '**_For becoming my wife._**' I swear Sherlock was and still very much is a hopeless romantic, thankfully only towards me. After that we went dancing. After that we got into the carriage and he laid a card on my lap that read, '**_For giving me back the family I once lost, and giving me a family I never dared to dream of. _**' After that we went to have dessert. The card he gave to me was one I still hold dear to my heart. '**_For taking me back when I tried to push you away one last time._**' That night Sherlock did pay for it all – very much like that first night we had after I returned from France with our babies. And yes, this was better series of gifts than getting pregnant again so soon.

February looked to be the same in the early days. Normally Sherlock would have went into one of his black moods, but he now had a wife and two kids that continued to keep his mind working. I remember sitting with Watson picking out certain aspects to twist for future stories to make my husband what all outside of our family see. Valentine's Day, he had Mrs. Hudson and Grace watch the kids while we two went out for the first time since our anniversary. Despite what he said, I knew that Sherlock was as nervous as I was on that date – very much like our anniversary. We went out for dinner, and then went to the opera, ending the evening with dessert at Simpson's. Once we got home I was shocked to again find a dozen red roses on the dining room table. And then came the first big case after our kids' birth – a week after Valentine's Day. I remembered this case well from when I used to read it. "A Case of Identity."

I had just put the twins down for their nap when I walked into the room to see the men shaking their heads. I raised an eyebrow, but Sherlock smirked. "My dear Nona, life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent."

I fought the urge to bust out laughing. "Sherlock whatever gave you that strange, way out there notion? Outside of the simple fact that your wife of just over one year hasn't really been born yet, as well as the fact that our kids and I have a lot of things that will not be created for around a century. Besides that, how is life stranger than what men can invent?"

At that poor Watson broke down into laughter, thankfully he kept it down so the twins would not be disturbed. Sherlock's eyes glimmered with his withheld laughter. "Quite, my dearest.  Before you arrived in our lives, Nona, we would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence for us now. If we three could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generation, and leading to the most outré results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable."

"I believe the short version of that Watson is 'fact is stranger than fiction'. But do write out the long version for my sake. Seeing as I see a case coming on, but I can't remember which case has my dear husband stating that last bit right now." I smirked as Watson let off another long chuckle. Sherlock still kept his laughter inside, though it showed in his brilliant gray eyes. I rarely thought about my old life anymore, but when I did think about what brought me to Baker Street and London it still made me wonder if I was in a coma somewhere dreaming all of this up. No, life is being a Lady, mother, wife, and associate detective in the Baker Street detective agency.

Watson shook his head once he managed to calm down. "And yet I am not convinced of it, Nona. The cases which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic."

"Watson if you think that things are bad now, then wait a few years. For all the best I have told you about my time there are worse." I explained. I still had a hard time sleeping from time to time because of the Ripper case.

Sherlock shook his head. "Certain selection and discretion is what is wanting in the police report. Where more stress perhaps is laid upon the platitudes of the magistrate rather than the details of a case, which to an observer may contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace."

"I can quite understand your thinking so." Watson commented. He glanced my way. Yes my arrival was nowhere near normal, nor was what drew me into their lives. But as I had already pointed such out, he had another angle to mention. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But here let us put it to a practical test."

I shook my head. This I had wanted to see for a long time. Watson took one of the morning papers from the floor and started reading as he did in the story. In fact I remembered the day the snuffbox that Sherlock brought out had arrived in the post. Sherlock was opening the mail in our room for a change so he would have more time with the twins and I. He had been gone for most of the day everyday for over a week on a tough case that I will not mention outside of saying that it made him relish myself and our babies in the end, and I was left wondering how anyone could do such to their family. As I fed the babies, he opened it and read the note the King had sent with it which read:

**_Sir Holmes,_**

****

**_Despite your wife's brazen and unlady-like behavior when last we met, I still feel a debt of gratitude for the wonderful end of the matter you did close so successfully. Enclosed is a wonderful snuffbox that was given to me by the Czar many years past._**

****

**_Your knighting I have heard of, and do give due congratulations. This too to the birth of twins your uncouth wife has safely in the world brought. Though she is no true Lady, hopes that uttering to two children as women are made for will put her in her proper place. Once such has come about perhaps you would like to introduce your proper lady to my wife, which is saying that such may one day come about._**

****

**_Thank you once more._**

****

**_Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, _**

**_Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein _**

**_Hereditary King of Bohemia_**

I was livid! "Sherlock if the guy shows up with his every last cent and begs on his hands and knees for help and my forgiveness, I don't care. Slam the door in his face!"

"Lady Nona E. Holmes," Sherlock chuckled. This got my attention, since he had never before used my full-married name and title in conversation before. "It is a wonder of wonders how easily you read my mind." That gave us both a good chuckle, and I saw just how lucky I was – seeing as many husbands of the age had the same mentality as the stuck up King of Bohemia who wasn't even really a King at all.

The box stunned Watson, as did the ring that had came from the reigning family in Holland that Sherlock had aided while I was pregnant. To this day Watson has no idea what my husband did for them, and I myself will never reveal the truth to anyone. It had been a couple of weeks since we had last seen our family doctor. Sherlock had a few cases, but most he was waiting for information on before acting. This was a rare day that had us with a margin of breathing space that had dried up. "The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime thc more obvious, as a rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have something better before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken."

Sherlock was not mistaken (as if we hadn't all seen that one coming mind you). Sherlock threw his cigarette into the fire and went straight to work with what facts he had from his observation of the woman. "I have seen those symptoms before. Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de Coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts."

Billy knocked on the door and announced that the young woman's name was Miss. Mary Sutherland. That rang in my head. I knew this case, but I just couldn't sort out which story it would soon become. When I caught sight of her I knew from Watson's description who she was and the case that was before me. Oh, I so hated the man she was dealing with! She was a little startled at my presence, but felt better than being in the room with two gentlemen unescorted (Victorian social rules are such a pain!). She sat in the usual client's chair as Sherlock gathered more clues about her. This time I discovered a few of them before he pointed them out. Her nose, mismatched shoes, and the ink on her finger – though Sherlock bested me with he rest and how he pieced it together. The fact that her step-father dislike her even going to Sunday-school functions yet suddenly agrees to let her go to a ball got me unsettled. There was something not right with that, but I knew what it was. I mean the fact that he types his letters, but thinks the machine would get between them if she did as well – how dumb could a woman get? Especially after my husband told her to just get on with her life and she still wants to be true to this jerk that dumped her before she got to the alter? However, I was not about to do my husband's work for him, so I kept silent. Thankfully she waited to the end to ask me my opinion. "Mrs. Holmes would you not have waited for your husband if he had asked you to?"

I had to bite back the comment I wanted to make, mostly because Sherlock was right when he later said it would do no good. This woman was head over heals and nothing would change her mind. All I could do was pity her if the truth ever did come out. "Miss Sutherland, Sherlock would have never needed to do such. Nor will he ever have to. A true man would not."

Her simple faith had her completely fooled. She simply thanked me and left. I got interested in some sewing I had been putting off, while the men talked about the case. This was usually my sign to them that I had read the story or was not interested in pursuing the case (yes, such did occur now and again – just so Watson was on his toes and apt to choose as he would as to what he would publish rather than by what I say). I will admit that when we met her step-father/fiancé, the look on the man's face when Sherlock went for the whip was priceless! However one would think such people would kindly remember that there are two babies under our roof – no, they have to slam the doors and wake the twins soundly so that the two of them need their parents or not get back to sleep.

About two weeks later we found ourselves in another adventure. Watson would later record the adventure as an early spring case under the title of "The Copper Beeches". I remember that the morning was cold. In fact we had the twins in warmer winter clothes when we got ready for breakfast. Watson had come over to give the twins a check up. Just after breakfast, we went through the check up and then settled in front the fire. The fog was thick and I wanted Watson to rest, as I easily saw he had been out since early hours. In fact I sent Mary a note by one of the irregulars that her husband was with us so that she wouldn't worry. Sherlock only nodded as if he had seen my actions coming. Typical man of the age! So we found ourselves very much like we once did long before, that is on the days I had a morning to myself. Sherlock had gone through a few papers as I deduced from the pile near his chair. Nice, this meant he was in a sour mood.

Sherlock was reading the Daily Telegraph when we came back in with the twins. He sighed and tossed the paper away. Oh, that was the old signal of an impending Black Mood. Obviously he read my face. "No, my dear Mrs. Holmes. There is no dark temper oncoming."

"Then care to explain the sigh and paper tossing?" I asked as I settled our daughter into his arms who grabbed a tight hold on him the second his waistcoat came in range. The best preventative medicine for my husband's former Black Moods was a visit from the little girl who carried his beloved mother's name. Sherlock smirked, but there was a weary look in his eyes. "To the man who loves art for its own sake it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much to the many _causes celebres_ and sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made my special province."

"Ah, a case! About time if you ask me." I smirked. That little speech I knew by heart. This was a case I was certain I would not miss. I loved reading it, but I had learned time and again that there is a distinct difference in reading and living out a case – especially with the fact that Watson always rewrote the cases such that I would not be revealed as having a hand in them. Both men were shocked by my revelation, it was a duel look that I couldn't help but laughing at. Hearing my laughter the twins joined in, after a few beats the men joined. Watson shook his head. "So, it would seem that Nona has been influenced by her dear husband."

I snorted through my smile. "Watson, when you take up your pen – and yes you will write this case up – just remember what my dear husband just said. I memorized it long before I found my place in time."

With a smirk, Watson took out his pan and pen and quickly scribbled word for word my husband's comment. Sherlock rolled his eyes (I swear he did!) and settled our daughter so the child could look up at him. "My dear Violet, your mother is tempting fate." That simply could not be ignored. As if we were in our early days and he had pushed my buttons, I walked over and kissed the top of his head. "Darling, I wasn't tempting fate. I was only stating a fact. Can't handle it, then simply take no heed of what I say."

Watson and both twins snorted as they tried vainly to hide their chuckles. But my dear husband got a look in his eyes that promised fun later. "I will take that under advisement until we can discuss this in full and in private." It took time for Watson to calm down from that. I went downstairs to make us all a pot of special coffee – chocolate almond spice. Hey I was craving chocolate, but defiantly not expecting. The red witch in that time period was a bigger pain after having twins, I knew since I had suffered through it the week before. Let's just say I really missed the Kotex Company at this point.

I came back in as the men were talking about Watson's writings again. Watson was playing with Michael. "And yet, I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records." My sigh told them I had returned, and given the looks in their eyes they were both grateful I still insisted to make them my special coffees. After I told Mrs. Hudson that there was a possible case coming, she and Grace came in and took the twins off to their naps.

Sherlock smirked after the kids were gone as he loaded his long cherry-wood pipe and glanced over at our family doctor. "You have erred perhaps in attempting to put color and life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing."

"Sherlock Holmes, if Watson had not colored and livened his statements I would have gotten bored and would have not known he or you so well." I admonished my husband. Watson smirked while Sherlock shook his head. Then I added a little smirk in as well; after all I never mentioned the fact that the world still saw the pair as fictional characters. "That and the two of you would not be as famous as the two of you become. So unfair that the world will never know about me or the twins."

Watson obviously felt better for the piece of information, but Sherlock's words and damn ego had done their damage. "It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter, Holmes. And Nona, you know that it would be unusual for you to be featured in a story that you will one day read."

Sherlock was in full business mode though. Later I would have to show him how hurt he would make our friend. "Quite, though it is not selfishness or conceit if I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales."

"Sherlock I only fell in love with the you I read about because the stories are tale like. It makes them interesting and brings more logic into the world. And might I add that the tales are taught not only in public schools, where I first heard of the two of you, but they are also taught in police classes. Maybe that is why there are so fewer Lestrades and Andersons in the force in my time?" I pointed out. This had always been part of my husband I hated. He would put down our friend, but Watson was the one who made him so famous. Sherlock paused as he took a draw from his pipe. I took the chance to go on. "Plus, the last few stories haven't had any real crime involved. The Irene Adler affair I will admit was fun only because I got to put down the King I have always hated. Mary Sutherland's case was strange to say the least."

Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "Might as well point out that little problem that was connected with the man with the twisted lip or even that incident of the noble bachelor. They were all matters that were outside the pale of the law, my dear. But in avoiding the sensational Watson, I fear that you have bordered on the trivial."

"The end may have been so," Watson answered, "but the methods I hold to have been novel and of interest." I could see our friend was hurt by the argument. In fact these 'discussions' only happen rarely, but the damage usually went overlooked by my DH (dear or damn husband – depending on the mood).

I shook my head and sighed. "Sherlock what are you going on about?"

"Nona, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial. I cannot blame you, Watson, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to Watson.

That peeved me off. I got up and went to the door. "Your little practice? Thanks kindly, Sherlock."

After that I went to 'our' bedroom wondering how long I had before it became his again. Maybe I made a mistake in staying here. It was obvious that Sherlock saw the kids and me as equally commonplace as he did Watson. Without question that hurt. When I heard the door open and shut I will admit that I was mildly surprised. I had figured that my husband would brush me off as a typical female, maybe even ship the twins and I off again because he didn't get his way. To be honest I wondered if that would be better for us. Now I knew I was still too twenty-first century for him.

"Nona." His voice was flat. That made me even more nervous. Like hell I was going to let him say it. "Guess the twins and I should pack. So, where are the three of us going?"

"Do you want to leave?"

That simple question tore me up inside. Did he want me there or not? "That's up to you."

When he rested his hands on my shoulders I felt that he was shaking – with anger or fear? A few tears fell down my cheeks. I just couldn't hold them back. With trembling thumbs he brushed them away. In his eye was that expression of fear I had hoped my remaining with him rather than going home had ridded us of before we had even gotten married. "Why?"

Sherlock for a moment looked so lost. But, when he closed his eyes, I knew he understood. "I was lost in thought of how things had once been. I completely forgot to take into account what I have now."

"How the twins and I hold you back?"

"No." His eyes opened and they were hard. "How much better my life is with the three of you. I was an idiot to try sending the three of you away. Nona, I was worried that I would lose you or the children. I knew that I couldn't function nearly as well now without all three of you in my life. I knew that because if you will remember I faced that when you left before we became engaged. My world crumbled without you."

I slid into his arms and breathed in his scent. When he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me close, I felt somewhat safer. "Do you want us to go to Oakstaff? I promise that this time that is where we will go."

His embrace tightened. "No Nona. Forgive me?"

"Do you want this to be your business? I'll stay out of it. I don't want to be in parts of your life you want to keep to yourself." There went all of that training and disguises. But, if this would save my marriage, then I was willing to give it all up. We were married for life, and I wanted our lives to be easy as could be.

Sherlock kissed my forehead before pressing his against mine. "I want this to be our family, our business, our life. However, I will not force you to remain if you do not want me. I have been alone most of my life. I still have trouble seeing things as they are now. If I have hurt you to the point that you no longer wish to have me with you I know that my family will keep you and our babies. I know that right now the twins need you more than they need me."

"Sherlock they need us both. I want to be with you and our kids however close you want me to be. That is why I learned to be a detective on my own, so that if you fell in love with me that I could offer something to you." I couldn't believe that we were having this discussion. Was he getting rid of me or not?

He kissed my lips and that hard look softened somewhat. "I was in love with you the moment I first looked at you. I saw this angel born into my life, an angel I did not feel I deserved. Most days I still feel that I do not deserve you and our children. You have given me dreams I never thought I deserved to dream much less have. Don't leave me now, Nona."

"If you want us here, this is where we want to be. I love you Sherlock Holmes. But I will not force myself on you."

When he hugged me I felt my heart race with hope. It felt so good that he wanted me still. Sherlock held me out so that we were looking at one another. "Forgive my disrespect?"

"If you forgive my temper? And remember that Watson might feel this way too?" I couldn't forget our family friend and doctor. And that he had gone through this time and again, and probably would continue to as well. Sherlock smirked and drew me close again. "I already did that. And your temper Mrs. Holmes is one of the facets of you that arouses me so."

"Drop the colorful lively lines, Sherlock, and kiss me already." I loved when I could get away with telling him off like this. As ordered he took me into a deep plundering kiss. Once again our marriage made it past another huge bump.

We were united again as we walked back into the sitting room, much to Watson's joy. I took I sat in Sherlock's chair across from him as Sherlock handed the note to me with a kiss on the top of my head. The address told me what we were facing long before I got to the signature.

**_Dear Mr. Holmes:_**

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**_I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten tomorrow if I do not inconvenience you. _**

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**_Yours faithfully,_**

**_Violet Hunter_**

I looked up to notice the doorbell ring. "She's on time. A good point for a governess."

"Do either of you know the young lady?" Watson asked.

Sherlock answered in the negative, but I merely bobbed my head from side to side. "Not in the flesh. And not another hint from myself."

"Terrible tease you are, Mrs. Holmes." Sherlock whispered as I got up to get the door. I smirked and winked. "I have yet to tease you yet, Sherlock. But, if you are a good boy, maybe later I will."

Watson chuckled at us. No, he had no worries about the two of us. Then Sherlock reminded us about the blue carbuncle case. I still couldn't believe that I got to hold that jewel! Miss Hunter was very much like Watson described. Bright not only in face but also in mind, neatly dressed, and strong willed along with polite. Sherlock later told me that she was what he pictured me, as I would be if I tried to become a Victorian woman. Then he told me that he preferred my future views and will over the woman who happened to also have our daughter's name.

Even though I knew the case and it's ending, I agreed with Sherlock that this Rucastle was trouble. Sherlock did not mention our daughter, but the expression on his face when he pointed out about not wanting his sister take up the position told me that he meant clearly our daughter. We agreed to be there for her if she needed it. And as anyone who read this case from Watson's writings she did indeed need us. In fact she looked at me with some hope. "It would not look too out of sorts if I were caught sending a message here if I were to say that you are an old acquaintance, Mrs. Holmes – that is if I may be so bold."

"I had a similar train of thought myself. You are clever and observant Miss. Hunter. Do not ever give that up." I will admit that meeting this woman in person is very different than trying to imagine her from reading Watson's account. Sherlock smirked over at me. Obviously he felt the same way. "Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you, Miss Hunter. I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger--"

That panicked Miss Hunter. "Danger! What danger do you foresee?"

Sherlock shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram to my wife would bring both she, our dear friend Watson, and I down to your help."

That successfully calmed the young woman down. She explained that she would go and left. I could see that Sherlock was already going over what data he had in his mind. Then men had their discussion as I went upstairs to check on the twins to find them both sleeping comfortably. I looked at little Violet and worried about her future. I remembered how difficult it had been to prove myself in the detective world, and there was no guarantee that she would want to follow in my footsteps. Just what kind of future would my little girl have? Then too would the future my son would have?

Two weeks later I receive a telegram at dinner. As I read it and had Watson double check the train time in his Bradshaw for me, Sherlock paced in front of the fireplace, ignoring his meal as he was want to do during a case. The case had him frustrated to the point that he had obviously over looked that any incoming message from Miss. Hunter would likely come to me. I could see he had taken this woman's strife into his heart because she had our child's name and that made him wonder if our baby girl was in that position what would be happening to her. This made living with my husband tedious at the least. The night action became evident, Watson was dining with us and Sherlock was in a pint up mood. He growled and sighed, to the displeasure of our children who only whimpered in mine and Watson's arms – as they had become adjusted to their father's moods on a case. "Data! Data! Data! I can't make bricks without clay. Our daughter would have never been allowed in that position, yet I allowed the young woman to go! I was a fool."

"Sherlock, will you please calm down for the sake of the babies! Besides, remember the young woman's own suggestion before she left two weeks ago?" I sighed as I tried to get a bit of puréed carrots into our own daughter who was waiting for her father to eat – the telegram I had received was sitting in plain view between our plates. "Eat now, since we will have to catch the train at half-past nine in the morning. Breakfast will have to be light and fast unless the twins decide to wake us early. Would you do that for mum and dad, angels?"

To that I receive coos and smiles. Oh, yes we would get an early wake up call all right. My words stopped Sherlock who returned to the table to read the note, which was nothing like the one I read in the story.

**Mrs. H –**

**Please you, your friend, and your husband meet with me at the Black Swan Hotel at mid-day tomorrow. Do come for I am at my wit's end with fright. Your advice is most needed.**

**HUNTER.**

Seeing the fire in my husband's eyes, I was pleased to see that he was settled to the hunt (bad pun that is completely unintended). He set to his dinner and then took over feeding our daughter as I ate my own. One the table was cleared, the children had their baths, Watson had left for home (promising to meet us at the train), and we were getting ready for bed I smirked at the tightness of Sherlock's muscles. I just couldn't let it slide. "I believe that the game is afoot, Sherlock."

"Quite. Though I am not sure if it would be safe for you to accompany Watson and I." Sherlock drew me into his arms and sighed. I knew that he was only being protective of me, but this was a pain. "Sherlock, I will be fine. I remember this case and I know the danger. But I will not tell you anything. The only reason I am going tomorrow is to calm Miss. Hunter, keep my eye on you, and live out the excitement."

Before he could argue with me, I silenced him with a deep kiss. That told my dear husband every time that he would not win if he tried to argue against me. My mind was made up, and I was accompanying the men to the Copper Beeches. Yet, there was something that bothered me, as if the case was different than what I read. But, what would make me think that?

The next morning Sherlock was in case mode as I fed the twins and made up a few bottles for them. It was only I who ate anything at breakfast, which was quiet. As we got ready to go, he turned to me with a pleading in his eyes. "I will allow you to go if you will clarify two points for me."

"Sherlock, I am not going to do your job."

He took hold of my shoulders and I saw the fear in his eyes. "Only this once be my guide. This is the first true case I have had need to worry about you in connection with. Is anyone to be hurt? And is the young woman I suspect is involved in mortal danger?"

"You are right about the young woman, but she has emissaries. And the only one to get hurt is her father." I hated telling him the story like this, but I wanted him to remain focused on the case rather than on me.

Thankfully, it was enough for my husband to calm himself with. "Then we should be on our way now."

Suddenly the most absurd thought hit me. "Sherlock, how did you know that a young woman is involved in this at all?"

My DH (damned or dear husband I will leave to the readers) turned and smirked with the twinkle back in his eyes. "You know my methods, my dear Mrs. Holmes."

"Men! Okay. It is obvious that the man is tailor making Miss. Hunter into someone specific. Obviously a young woman who has an importance." I knew too well that he was looking for me to slip up and give him more information than I already had.

Damn his twinkling eyes! Here we were about to leave for an important case, and I wanted to lock him in our bedroom for the day! "Quite so. Obviously a woman he knows well on sight – his sister, lover, wife, or daughter. Thank you for clarifying that point for me."

I growled at him. "I said no such thing!"

"'Her' father gets hurt I recall you saying." Sherlock smirked.

We met up with Watson at the train, but Sherlock was mutely reading his papers. Watson sighed and struck up a conversation with me. "So Nona, I see the twins were able to wake up their parents at least on time."

"No, they woke us a half hour earlier than I was expecting. We were shrilled out of sleep at six." To this Sherlock snorted behind his paper. "A certain sulking detective is still in love with being a father. How is Mary?"

"She is very well. She was reading nursery rhymes to the baby when I left. It settles him down when he is in a mood to exercise." Watson smirked as Sherlock again snorted behind his paper.

I shook my head. "You know Sherlock did the same with the twins, so don't mind my eldest baby. He's pouting because I refuse to give him anymore information than a couple of facts I could tell that he already knew."

"Eldest child, Mrs. Holmes? And I will appreciate that you will remember that I had no time to go over the paper at home rather than inferring that I am pouting." Sherlock huffed without putting down his precious paper. "Always knew a wife and children would alter my habits."

One would think that would drive me to tears or screams, but I had lived with the great detective enough to know he was pissed with me. Maybe calling him my eldest child was going a little too far. Watson on the other hand was glaring at his friend. "Holmes really."

Sherlock only huffed from behind his paper. I returned to the book I had swiped from his desk. It was a new one, and he had been obvious in his own way that he wanted me to look it over. In one paragraph I was certain that he was the author and I actually found it interesting. It was on bullet marks. But then I found a typo. "Sherlock? Since when do gums have velocities?"

That surprised my DH (dear or damn husband is left up to the reader) set down his paper to inspect the error I pointed out with my finger. Luckily he had written it under a new pseudonym. That did nothing to improve his bad mood. Sherlock simply handed the book back to me and huffed. "Maybe the author should have his narcissistic woman read his work before having it printed."

Oh, I saw through that! Narcissistic woman? He would pay triple for this, and not the enjoyable punishment either! "Perhaps that is all a wife is good for. If you will excuse me gentlemen, but the compartment is a bit too stuffy for me right at this moment." With that I left and found an empty compartment to sit in by myself. I had a lot to think about and being near Sherlock did nothing for my concentration even with us both in good moods, but it was worse when we were at one another's throats.

**_Sherlock_** –

How dare the woman throw that I assumed once in my life in my face? Did she not realize that I wanted to judge how dangerous this case could be for her? Nona E. Holmes – my world, my heart, my only one, and the one woman who could goad and anger me in ways no other of her sex has ever done so. And then she and Watson, my friend, talk down about me while I am in the same compartment! She calls me her eldest child while I am doing all I can to not snap at her in public. All I was trying to do was not shame her, but she could not return that favor in kind to me. No, haughty Nona Holmes is far above considering others the way she demands from the pathetic mortals that are all below her. Finally she verbalizes a mistake in the latest publication I had created. All she had to do was nudge and point it out!

I will admit that saying what I said about the author's wife was a bit much, but it is doubtful that she would know that I wrote the piece. After all there was no doubt in my mind at the time that she did not know my latest nom de plume. Norman N. Bowe. Yet the glare I was receiving from Watson told me that he was about to give me a lecture – despite the fact that his last lecture that had followed the glare he wore had been one I will forever be grateful to have received. "Go ahead with whatever you are going to say, Watson."

"Nothing at all Holmes. After all the word 'Norbury' was meant for cases not your marriage." He sneered.

I rolled my eyes. Must he use that weapon on me now when my wife was hurting me? "Will you please clarify your point?"

He sighed hard and looked at me as if it should be obvious. "Holmes, Nona left the compartment because of your behavior and words. After all, calling her a narcissistic woman is a very low blow."

"What makes you think that I was speaking about her? In fact, what makes you think that she believes such?" I was not about to be told I was wrong. After all, Nona didn't know I was the book's author.

Shaking his head Watson nearly growled at me. "Holmes, think about it – use your method with her for a change. Nona normally is chatting with the both of us or me during a trip, even if she knows all about a case. You were slouched in the corner behind you paper, so we talked and you huffed and snorted through our short conversation. I asked about my godchildren, you rudely added your input. Nona teases you as she always does and you not only insult her but also give her reason to doubt your desire for her and the children's presence in your life. She brushed it off, only to be rudely insulted by the man who once said that he was proud to call her his wife!"

He was wrong. That isn't the way it all happened. But then again, Nona had looked playful as she smirked at me that morning and on the train. "She could not know I was inferring her to silence her when I said narcissistic woman."

Watson gave me a dead stare. "Holmes, what were her words when she left the compartment?"

That was when it hit me. Damn, I had hurt her – and much worse than the hurt I had felt from her banter. And to do so in public like this was hardly helpful to the situation. I shook my head and got up to see where my damn wife had gotten to when Watson added his bit. "Holmes, words are more harmful than you think. Choose yours carefully."

I simply shut the door. There was no woman's car on the train, so no point looking for her there. I walked past five compartments to find her sitting in the sixth one down from ours, alone and obviously torn. I had hurt her deeper than I first suspected. For a moment I simply watched her to gauge where to go from here. She was slumped back in the seat staring lifelessly out the window. Her handkerchief was in her hand and had obviously been used. More importantly she had not noticed that she was being watched. Nona always had a sharp eye for the happenings around her. Now she simply did not care what happened to her. And it was my fault. Now, how do I regain what I had stupidly pushed away again? "Nona?"

"The kids and I will be packed within an hour after we all get back to Baker Street."

Her voice was cold and empty, not even a hint of pain. Where was the woman who stood me down while I was killing myself with my addiction? Where was the woman who walked away when I was acting like a fool after nearly losing her to the Ripper? This woman couldn't be my wife. Not my vivacious Nona. "Where will the three of you go?"

"Wherever you say, sir."

I shut the door and was grateful that the train was not as full as it might have been, therefore not as busy. "Nona, don't say a word. Just listen to me. This is not you, not the woman I married. I realized that I have not been the husband I was when we first got married. My pride and frustration has gotten between us. Nona, I will try to remember how much I hurt when you and the children were missing from my life. These are only words, but I will show them with my actions. That is if you can trust me again."

"This is not the time or place to talk about us, Sherlock." Well that was better than 'sir'.

I took her hand into mine and felt her try to pull it from me, but I wouldn't let go. "Nona, I don't want you and our babies to leave. I was hurt and I took it out on you instead of talking."

"You don't talk Sherlock, you deduce. So who are you and where is my arrogant husband?" Nona snorted.

I smiled at that. This woman knew me far too well for myself. "I remember once when I was young my parents had a dark fight. It was my father's fault, and – like you – my mother had been playfully toying with him. He waited until mother was packing my things to realize that he could lose us because of his pride. I will not put off talking to you again, Nona."

She sighed and looked at me. Deep inside she was coming back, but it would take some time to regain that beautiful woman who had stolen my heart and soul. Then she made my heart stop. "Am I that narcissistic?"

She knew that I had written the book. "When did you know?"

"From the first paragraph on."

"You are not. I didn't know you knew I was the author. I sneered as I would other women. My words were not aimed at you, Nona."

She didn't seem to believe me. In fact her words proved that the obvious was the correct choice this time. "Sherlock, you were aiming right at me." I sat there silent a moment. "I will admit that I deserved it, but it doesn't mean that I feel any better about it."

"I deserved your jibes as well, Nona. Will you take me back once again?"

Nona looked down at our joined hands. She had stopped trying to take her hand from mine when I began talking to her. Would she now break the contact and our bond? Lightly she squeezed my hand and I let go of the breath I did not realize I had been holding. Her eyes were again sparkling, but there was a fear in her eyes. I could only hope that I might regain her trust. All she would do is nod, but the look on her face left me less than convinced. She, the twins, and I would need some time to ourselves soon. But first we had to get through this case.

Nona and I returned to the compartment in silence. After that I refused to pick up the paper I wasn't really reading in the first place. Nona returned to reading the book not saying a single word. Watson was angry about my actions still, but took in the view as I did. In moments I knew that we were passed the Hampshire border, in fact we had made it as far as I believe Aldershot when Watson broke the tense silence. Nona didn't look up, so Watson and I talked about the scenery and how we each saw it from different perspectives. I had a hard time feeling safe at home in my childhood after my mother's murder. That was what had cemented me to the path I was traveling now. Yet, I knew that the countryside was safer than the city for raising children. I decided then to see about finding a small estate for my family and Watson to go to in the summer heat or epidemic threatened them, and Nona would always have a place to go to if I got angry with her again or she and I were to be separated by centuries. However, Nona would never know until I was ready.

"You horrify me, Holmes!" Watson cried out once I explained how I looked at the area.

"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbors, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened." Nona looked as if she wanted to say something but was holding her tongue.

Before I could ask her, Watson pointed out the obvious. "No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away."

"Quite so. She has her freedom."

"What CAN be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?"

"I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell." I looked over at my wife and hoped she would say something. Yet, she was still holding herself back. "Nona, is there a difference in urban and rural crime in the future?"

"Not really, though it really depends on where in the world and the people that live there. In America, each state and city is different. Florida made a big deal about Trish's abuse, but it may be a commonplace incident in other areas and so is not as sensational news." Nona warmed a little as she explained, but it was a far cry from my wife yet.

Not far from the station we found the inn and Miss. Hunter. She had brains this woman. Not near to my wife and sister-in-laws, yet no airy-headed as the vast majority of females of the age. Perhaps times and women in turn were indeed changing. Four places were sat for lunch in the sitting room she had procured. The young woman gave us an account of her experiences at the Copper Beeches that gave me no doubt that my favored theory had been correct – a daughter was being ill used by her family for money. The girl had never gone to America; she was locked away to keep her from marriage. The idea of the dog had me worried about my wife. Nona said that Rucastle was the only one to be harmed, yet refused to tell me how. It had to be the dog, which meant Nona would remain near me. I stood and paced in hopes of thinking of some ruse to keep Nona away from that dreadful place and safe while not letting her know that was what I was doing. Yet, none came to my mind. I gave Miss. Hunter her instructions and then explained what I had deduced. "There is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the color of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers--possibly her fiancée--and no doubt, as you wore the girl's dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavoring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."

Watson did not understand, so I explained it. "My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don't you see that the converse is equally valid? I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their children. This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power." Miss Hunter's own personal observations of the boy concurred with my own. Yet, she was of the urge to save the young woman immediately. That unfortunately could not be done – all had to wait until the hour I gave Miss. Hunter.

We spent the remainder of the day in Winchester, acting as if on a holiday so we would not be spotted for what we were truly there to do. This was where my wife returned to herself in full. We visited the sights and chatted as a recently married couple would. Still in her eyes was a fear that I felt for so long – losing her. Once we had stopped for tea, and Watson had excused himself for a moment, I took her hand. "Nona, I truly am sorry for today. I only want to know certain facts so you will be safe."

"And I want to keep my knowledge from you so that I do not bias your judgments and you don't lean on me to solve a tough case." Nona shook her head. "I really wish I would finish with the moodiness from the twins."

I smirked and squeezed her hand. This woman was all I wanted, just as she was. Later I bought her a new outfit she happened to be eyeing. It was not a bribe for her forgiveness, but a reward for suffering with a man like me. It would also come into use sooner than either of us expected.

**_Watson_** –

After I returned from my business, I saw that my friends were a couple still. I was seriously wondering about the Holmeses, yet they were a pair that was difficult to destroy. In fact they were snuggled quite close together in the trap, which indeed was large enough for the three of us. I only then noticed fully how alike the pair was. Their eyes glazed with the impending adventure, senses keen, muscles tight. I would doubt that they were placing the young woman who was a prisoner of her family in the position of their own little girl, and were determined to see to the girl's well being. No wonder they were often so close to losing one another. I began to wonder if a vacation would not be a bad thing for their family. It would certainly do a world of good for my nerves, and I wasn't planning on joining them at all. Obviously this pair would one day be the death of me.

We left our trap and horse as a wayside public house and walked the rest of the way to the Copper Beeches. The trees that had been described to us several times were sufficient to mark the house, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun. Just at seven we reached the house to find Miss. Hunter on the doorstep smiling at us. We heard a thudding noise from within the house as we reached our client. Miss. Hunter smiled. "That is Mrs. Toller in the cellar. Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. Rucastle's."

"You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business."

We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described. All along the way, Holmes kept Nona close to him. The real reason why they had been fighting came to light – he still feared losing her. Not a terrible feeling for a husband to have for his wife after nearly losing her so many times, though it was wholly unjustified now. After all, the brute Miss. Hunter had described was away and the only dangers were taken care of. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes's face clouded over.

"I trust that we are not too late. I think, Miss Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in." Holmes was set to get through this. I could see that becoming a father had made quite a change in him. A change that was all for the better thankfully. Before our united strength the old rickety door gave at once, but the prisoner had gone.

"There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off."

"But how?"

"Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it." He swung himself up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it."

"But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away."

Before Holmes could utter a word, I saw Nona sigh and then whisper into his ear. His eyes lit up. "That changes much in my chain, Nona. Instead of the father it is the stranger who has come to rescue the girl? Still yet, I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready. Nona, you and Miss. Hunter stay behind us."

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes was holding his wife back from attacking the monster.

The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight. "Where is my daughter," he shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve you!" He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.

"He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter.

"I have my revolver," said I.

"Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. So ugly was the sound that Nona clutched at Holmes in fear of it, a first of all the time I have known the pair. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door.

"My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

Holmes, Nona, and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. The sound of our approach caught its attention, and it started for Nona! When she fell as she tried to run away, Holmes got between she and the dog. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over not far from his last victim. Nona was all right, though she had a horrible rip in her left forearm from a nearby bush she caught against in her fall. Toller and I carried Rucastle, living but horribly mangled, into the house. Holmes walked close to Nona as he tried to control the bleeding long enough for me to assess Rucastle. We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. Then I stitched the gash in Nona's arm – nearly a hundred stitches, but I did them so that the scaring would be minimal as possible. We were all assembled round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.

"Mrs. Toller!" cried Miss Hunter.

"Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."

The rest was as I wrote it in the published account. It seemed that Nona had whispered 'Norbury' and 'the man in the window, Sherlock'. She said that she had hated giving up information like that, but that she had also wanted to do that since the first time she read my account of the affair. She and Miss. Hunter remained distant friends for a time and had even convinced Holmes into accompanying her to the young woman's wedding some years later.

**_Nona_** –

Thankfully, I was able to change my clothes at the Copper Beeches after Watson stitched up my arm. From then on I vowed to myself that if I had the slightest inkling that something would be different I would tell Holmes and not assume that I know exactly what would happen. After all, this case just proved that I was wrong on that idea. The situation didn't really hurt until we went to bed that night.

In my dreams I suffered from the full attack of the dog that had mangled Rucastle. The growls, the slobber, the smell, the ripping, and my heart racing in panic – all of it seemed so real. I tossed and turned so violently in our bed that Sherlock and I were both amazed that I hadn't pulled out the stitches our family doctor had sewn in my arm to close the wound I got in reality. I woke screaming, waking the entire house. Yet it still felt so real to me, even with my eyes open, as if the dog was there attacking me – until my babies started wailing. Only then did I feel and hear Sherlock. "Nona, it was a nightmare. You're safe … you're home. It's over now. Calm down love."

I started to get up for the twins, but dear Mrs. Hudson and Grace were already at the door holding my still crying children in their arms. A moment later, both my son and daughter were in my arms slowly settling down with me and Sherlock had his arms around the three of us. I needed that sweet feeling so much, but then I got a wonderful surprise too.

"Da."

"Ma."

The sounds came from our two angels! Michael had said ma, while Violet had said da – their first words. That had made the night much better for all of us. Sherlock wrote the facts in the kids' baby books for me. Afterward we all settled back to sleep – the twins sleeping between Sherlock and myself. I had no more nightmares after that. To be honest I woke at the sounds of two very chatty babies cooing and calling out for their ma and da. Sherlock was beaming at us as I opened my eyes. I just had to tease. "You do realize that they are now officially a step closer to the dreaded 'no' phase?"

"That may very well be so, Mrs. Holmes. However, I would not trade this for a thing. We do have an appointment this evening at Oakstaff, so I cajoled our babies to wake you up." Sherlock's smirk was one of a man who has seen his plan bear fruit.

I stretched and glanced at him with a comment rather than question. "What are you up to Sherlock."

He didn't answer, and hours later we found ourselves at Oakstaff. So too were Trish and Mycroft. Dad only smiled the same smirk that Sherlock had given me that morning. "I have a surprise for the four of you, though it would seem that Sherlock had near the same idea as I. Mycroft do you remember Chestnut Manor three estates East from Oakstaff? It is now yours and Trish's – call it a late wedding present." Trish and Mycroft were in shock – a comical sight to say the least. But dad wasn't through yet. "And my youngest boy and his wife too have a place to hide from the heat of summer in Town – Jasmine Hall. This way I can at times have all of my children and grandchildren near."

Now it was Sherlock and I who were stunned. I got tears in my eyes as I muttered, "the special surprise mom was talking about while I was dead."

"Exactly, Nona. Violet told me that my surprises would be perfect. I want all of you near as often as is possible. Too many years have passed with distance between us all, and I want to close the gaps as much as I can."

I will have to say that dad can often go all out. Not only had he bought us homes in the country, but staffed them as well. First we visited Chestnut Manor.

Yes, it was named so for the trees in the huge front yard. A good thing too, seeing as Trish and I both love chestnuts. A great Tutor mansion stood before us. Trish whispered to me that it was nearly a castle to her – and very much it seemed so to me. One hundred and five rooms, stables, a small lake with a waterfall, two cottages, and a large garden and a wooded area! I was starting to get jealous.

And then we went to Jasmine Hall, named for the sweet smelling vines that grew here year around. Sherlock and I had two ponds and a stream along with a river, a wooded area, stables (where I found that Onyx Queen already was living in), a small cottage, and three greenhouses along with two gardens! The hall itself had a hundred and three rooms. I knew that this would take some getting used to for sure.

The staff was informed about the agency, Sherlock and my preferences, along with how Sherlock and I were raising our children. They were shocked by some of it, but accepted this as how things were in our home.

* * *

Once again forgive how long it took to put this chapter out – just started summer break. And if there are any cases you would like to see featured just speak up and I will try to fit them in depending on dates and if I have already mentioned them in this series. Also all tokens of esteem (bribes) are well appreciated (especially cheesecake).


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